Emeralds and Rubies
by NiceSlytherin
Summary: The next generation of Weasleys is... different. Here's my current long fic, on the theme of house rivalry.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello!**** I'm really excited about this story because Rose/Scorpius is one of my favorite ships, and the topic is one I am very interested in and have strong opinions on. Hopefully you will agree with me enough to keep reading. Oh, right, disclaimers...**

**I do not own the characters in this story, nor the world they live in. They are their own people, possibly in an alternate universe, and brought into ours by JK Rowling. However, the writing (other than some quotes) and the character's personalities (other than what JK has already established about Rose and Scorpius) is my own.**

**I know this is not canon. Here, Rose is fifteen while Lily is eleven, but they _should _be about two years apart. I just wanted this all to happen at the same time while being reasonable, so I moved some birth dates around. If you like this kind of context, the story takes place in the 2019-20 school year.**

**So before I finish, I just want to add that I really appreciate comments and jump up and down and start scream-singing them out loud to a favorite tune whenever I get one. With that, enjoy!**

**(This first chapter is very short and not my best... please get further in before forming your opinion)**

-Rose-

_"So that's little Scorpius. Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank goodness you inherited your mother's brains." Dad glared at a family off to one side. The mother, with long brown waves of hair and sharp features, brushed a cluster of blond hair from her son's scowling face. He had already changed into his robes, and I quickly noticed that the Slytherin symbol, a fanged green serpent, had been charmed onto the breast even though it normally stayed blank until we were sorted. Someone was definitely counting on being evil. At least that's what my father had told me about the houses:_

_"We'll be proud of you no matter what. Just don't get into Slytherin. Slytherin's evil, Ravenclaw's smart, Hufflepuff's… well… and Gryffindor's brave. I'll send you chocolate frogs if you get into Gryffindor."_

_Hugo punched me and I realized I had been staring in Scorpius's direction. Not at him, of course not. I just did that sometimes. Went so far into my own world that I forgot about the others around me. That didn't prove anything, I convinced myself._

That was five years ago. Now I look back and realize that was actually the beginning. The beginning of the most controversial relationship Hogwarts has seen in years.

Hugo says I'm a hopeless romantic. Maybe I am. But here's my story, and while it may appear dramatic, it is certainly true.

* * *

A toot in the distance commences even more chaos on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The train is coming. As the Hogwarts Express pulls into the station, we grab our trunks and pets. Mothers kiss their children full on the lips (pretending not to notice them wiping it off later) and fathers give their sermons: I don't want to get another owl from McGonagall this year, you hear now?

It's Hugo's first year, so I slip away from my family unnoticed and climb onto the train. Prefects compartment this year. I'm heading down the narrow aisle when someone jostles me. "Sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there." But Malfoy doesn't move out of the way immediately. He gives me a look that I can't figure out, then catches up with the rest of his Slytherin friends filing into a compartment.

But before he enters, he turns sharply and spots me staring. He smirks and slides the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

-Lily II-

"Do you think I'll get into Gryffindor?" My brothers turn around.

"Of course you will, dummy. You're a Potter," scoffs James. He returns to watching Fred stuff liquorice wands into his nose, but Al searches my eyes. I look away, but take his hand extended on the empty seat between us.

A quarter moon is out and the silhouettes of trees look like dementors in their swirling black cloaks by the time we pull into Hogsmeade station. James reaches up to get my trunk for me from the rack I can't touch even on my toes. "You're going to take the boats- all the first years do. Head for Hagrid- the huge ancient guy." Huge ancient guy?

It turns out James couldn't have given a more accurate description. "First years, o'er here!" calls a man as tall as the old lampposts and so wide it takes four hyper first years standing in front of him to conceal his enormous stomach. He wears an old leather jacket that must have been tailor-made to fit, and a shaggy beard turning gray. "First years!"

I lug my trunk across the cobbled boulevard to deposit it in a pile of other luggage and pets. Hagrid catches my eye as I join the group. He smiles down at me, taking note of my ginger hair and freckled face. "Another Weasley! Welcome!" he laughs.

"Actually, I'm Lily. Lily Potter." Hagrid's eyes grow wide and the group of students hush as several stare at me.

"Oho! Potter's girl. I knew yer Dad- I watched him die. Well, 'cept not really. Well…" he shakes his mane of tangled hair threaded with white. "Anyway, we'll be takin' the boats 'cross the lake. Scenic way, yeah?" We follow him down to a wooden dock that creaks and sinks as Hagrid steps onto it. About twenty rowboats with peeling red paint wait for us, not attached in any way to the dock. "Hop on. Three per boat." I scan the group for my cousins. Dominique has already joined two other girls who giggle nervously with each other, but Hugo grins back at me nervously. "Careful, now."

Hugo and I walk along the dock to the next empty boat. I climb in carefully as he furrows his brow and pats the side of the boat. "Where are the oars?" A girl with shiny black hair joined in one long braid down her back and tan skin steps in and sits on the bench across from us.

"Hi, I'm Asha."

"Lily Potter. And this is Hugo, my cousin."

Hugo waves. "You're Muggle-born?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Almost everyone else seems to know who we are."

Asha's mouth forms an O. "Wait. You're- your parents are the Golden Trio?"

We nod. This term had arisen sometime in the years after the war, partly based off the premise that Dad, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione were the ideal Gryffindors, whose colors were red and gold.

"That's really cool! Although I suppose you've had enough people gaping at you. So, are you both excited for Hogwarts?"

"Lily's been ready since the letter came. Her oldest brother's letter." I elbow him.

"Alright, everyone's in, yeah? No missing toads?" Hagrid says, looking around at all of us. He climbs into a boat which goes notably lower into the water from the pressure. He takes out a long, weathered pink object that might have once been an umbrella and taps the side of his boat. All of them start to glide away from the dock. "Away we go!"

The boats move swiftly through the murky water. Hugo peers over the side of our boat. "I think I just saw something!"

Soon we are close enough to see a wall through the fog blanketing the lake. I look up and gasp. Asha spins around in her seat.

Hogwarts. Nothing my brothers have told me could give me an idea of this, this gigantic castle towering above us in the dark. To the left I can see students descending a row of carriages without horses and walking up a staircase and through the gates. However, we are heading towards a gloomy opening in the stone wall. When we enter, we are completely engulfed in darkness but for the lanterns attached the boats. We come to a stop at a dock where others are already getting off. "Come along," growls Hagrid. We clamber up a steep staircase for what seems like forever until we reach a dim hallway lighted by candles. There, a lady with pale skin and strands of gray in her tight black bun stands in beside a pair of wide doors with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Hello, new students, and welcome! I am Professor Vector, Deputy Headmistress and Arithmancy professor. I hope you had a nice train ride and enjoyed the traditional view from the boats. Now, through these doors the rest of the students are eagerly waiting to watch you get sorted. Here are a few notes before that happens. First, sorting is a very old custom at our school, which we would like you to respect. However, there is absolutely no need for you to be worried, and you will not be asked to do or be anything than what you already can. Lastly, and please keep this in mind tonight and onwards, children, your house doesn't need to define you. The Sorting Hat chooses what it thinks best for each of you, but being sorted should give you more options and inspiration, not limit them, because being with people like you can motivate you to be the best you can be. And with that, I think you are ready." Vector snaps her fingers and the double doors swing open. "Enter in an orderly fashion, please," she says, beckoning the apprehensive kids at the front of the cluster in. When we reach the doors, I gasp again. There is the dining hall, with a long table for each of the four houses, just like Al said, and at the front of the room, a table placed horizontally where the professors sit. In the very middle, on a throne-like chair, a woman with wrinkles on her forehead that suggest she scrunched it too much and a moss-green hat examines us with interest. The Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall.

Vector positions a three-legged stool before the staff table, and above it, with careful fingers, the Sorting Hat, a faded black wizard's hat that for now lies motionless. She then looks up at us and nods, and the group shuffles past encouraging smiles and fist-bumping siblings to the front. We wait. Confused whispers from a few first years echo. Then a fold in the hat opens like a mouth. But instead of singing in its famous gravelly voice, it starts… beatboxing.

_Yo! Hey y'all, I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I'm tryin' something new,_

_So I hope you like this rap!_

_In yo history of magic lessons you'll learn about my owner_

_Who used to sort with his mates but chose me in turn to show ya_

_Where you're s'posed to be_

_So you can thrive here the best_

_I know that I'm a hat_

_But of my kind I'm the smartest_

_Now, since a warty hog led us to found this school,_

_Students go into houses, all equally cool_

_So before I sort you_

_I'll tell you a bit_

_About these sections of Hogwarts_

_Where you'll find your fit_

_Gryffindors, they like to steal the show,_

_With courage and bravery, and they say hello_

_To Hufflepuff, much like them, but only for good causes_

_They're selfless and kind- oh I'm out of breath- my other songs have pauses (gulp)_

_If you're ambitious and clever, yet don't always work well in a team_

_I might just sort you into Slytherin, the silver and the green._

_Then those in Ravenclaw, studious and wise_

_They're eager to learn and see the world for their own eyes._

_I think that's all, so I'll wrap this up_

_Win points for your team to get the house cup_

_Try your hardest at school, no matter who you are_

_And be wary of dark magic, though this year it might just stay afar_

_That's all folks, so enjoy the sorting_

_Watch your step as you climb up- I hope I wasn't too boring._

_Peace out! Wurd!_

The hall goes silent, then applause and whistles thunder around. The fold in the hat twists into a proud smile. I have a feeling it had never received this much praise. Professor Vector waits until the noise died down, then clears her throat and unrolls a long scroll. "When I call your name, sit on the stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. Once you have been sorted, join the rest of your house at the appropriate table. The first to be sorted is Ashby, Meredith."

The crowd parts for a spindly girl with mousy hair walks to the stool and sits down. She watches the hat as it descends, then flinches. She squeezes her eyes shut until the hat cries, "Gryffindor!" Meredith jumps up from the stool so fast the hat falls off. Vector picks it up, chuckling to herself, while Meredith heads over to a table accented with reds and golds.

Vector continues calling out names. Hugo squeezes my hand.

"Dubashi, Asha." Asha moves as if on hot coals until she reaches the stool. She looks down shyly as the hat is placed on her head.

"Gryffindor!" Asha looks up in surprise.

After about a dozen names, it comes. "Potter, Lily." Murmurs rise from the students behind them. A few teachers who had started to doze off in their chairs stir, and McGonagall sits up even straighter. It seems like time slows down as I walk to the stool. I know that sounds cheesy, but that can really happen. Vector gives me a fond half-smile as the hat slips over my eyes.

_A Potter! These are almost as easy as Weasleys. But- you're different from your brothers. Brave, yes, but only because of self discipline. Quite witty, too… I think it'd better be…_ "Slytherin!"

_No no no no_, I plead. I'm not like them. I'm a Potter! But Professor Vector is already taking off the hat and calling for Pullman, Ronald.

As I take my seat on the edge of the Slytherin table, a few students slide away. They're watching me as I glare at the Sorting Hat.


	3. Chapter 3

**So hopefully this story's starting to grow on you... And returning readers, sorry for all the recent switch arounds. Ok, chapter three... Just to let you know, this is Roxanne Weasley, 3rd year (at least in this fic) but real daughter of George and Angelina. It starts with a flashback, which is why it's in italics except for the hat talking. Allons-y!**

-Roxanne-

_The old witch called my name. I hopped onto the stool. As soon as I felt the weight of the Sorting Hat on my hair, I experimented:_ CAN YOU HEAR ME? _The hat shifted._

No need to shout, darling, _its voice groaned inside my head. I smirk._ Well, this one might be the easiest sort I've had so far. Wild and daring, eh? … And loud. But in your subconscious… you value others' opinions and friendship more than they could imagine. Penny for my thoughts? Good friends shouldn't need to be impressed. _Then without another word, the hat cried out,_ "Gryffindor!"

Four years later, I whoop as the final first year, Peter Yin, takes a seat at the Ravenclaw table and blushes at the applause. I nudge Fred. "How come he's not in Hufflepuff?" Fred smiles, but shushes along with the rest of the hall when the Headmistress stands.

"Congratulations to the new first years. We are delighted to have you here at Hogwarts. And to returning students, welcome home. Before we eat I would like to remind everyone of a few of the very important rules here at Hogwarts, although I'm sure all the staff would appreciate each of you taking time to read the full list, which is available in Mr. Filch's office."

"That's one way to assure that no one reads it," mutters Fred.

"First of all, please do not practice jinxes, curses, or any other kind of harmful magic on others unless explicitly requested for a lesson. Also, neither stroll the hallways after nine o'clock nor venture into the Forbidden Forest without responsible adult supervision. Stay away from parts of the castle that are still marked off for so far irremovable magical damage from the war. Lastly, treat your teachers and fellow classmates with respect, because we are all here for the same purpose: education and preparation of the next generation in our society. And with that, enjoy the feast."

As soon as the plates appear I grab blindly for the one in front of me. I come up with a few buttery stalks of asparagus, which promptly slip out of my hands and onto my lap. Fred snorts. Ignoring him, I toss the asparagus onto the plate. Three second rule.

"Still hiding behind your brother?" I don't need to turn to know who it is.

"Flint," I address scathingly. "I saw the Prophet a few months ago. Sounds like your mother's not very happy with her… family arrangement. Honestly, stalking Draco Malfoy…"

He jerks his arm toward me. A little cough from the other side of me makes him stop. "Gonna give me detention, Miss Prefect?" Dedrick Flint jeers, but eyes my cousin Rose as he adjusts to flick one of my cornrows instead of whatever he was about to do.

I shove my plate away. Enough. I want to be the first one out, anyway. I grab a handful of tarts and stuff them in my robe pocket. Jumping up, I bump into Flint. "Whoops."

Rose stands up, too. "First years, please," she says in a clear but unimposing voice that makes me sick. I scuttle to get up to the common room ahead of the crowd, but the others are close behind me as we head upstairs.

Everyone shrieks when a staircase suddenly swings itself away from the landing and onto another one. I take a bite out of a cauldron cake and drop it, watching it fall between other staircases to land in the great hall where another group of students nearly walk over it, cry out, then look up angrily.

Eventually we reach the painting covering the entrance to the common room. The Fat Lady looks up from a canvas in her pastel garden. It might be an ostrich, but who can tell?

"_Umquam Audacior,*_" says Rose. The Fat Lady winks at the huddle of first years behind me as the painting slides to reveal the Gryffindor common room. The usual tapestries flaunting scarlets and golds cover the curved wall of the tower. Flames dance in the huge fireplace, and cushiony yet tattered armchairs and couches are randomly placed on the rug that spreads across the entire area. In back are two adjacent staircases that lead to the dormitories.

"Is it true that if a boy tries to climb this, it'll turn into a slide?" chirps a first year. Rose nods, cracking a smile.

I do, too, but they can't see because I'm already at the landing. I pass two doors and stop in front of the next. Brilliant.

I find the four-poster with my luggage at the foot, then empty the trunk and start decoration my slice of the room. A few minutes later, my dorm mates trickle in. None of them say hi to me until I find myself flipped upside down over my bed.

"Hey, Mack," I say nonchalantly, but I hastily grab the hem of my skirt and pull it down- well, up. Mackenzie Finnigan cackles at the sight of me thrashing for my wand on the edge of the bed. When it rolls off, she takes mercy and lets me down. My head crashes onto the bed, followed by the rest of me. "You must think you're very clever."

"Nah, let's leave the clever to the 'Claws. I just think I'm the win- hey!" While she has been blabbering, I found my wand and now her long brown ponytail is trying to take flight, pulling the rest of her with it. I don't leave her hanging (no pun intended) as long as she did me, though.

"Honestly, does that make you proud? Levitation's a first year spell. Besides, I saw you whispering. I just decided to let you have your fun." She smooths her ponytail. And then she's hugging me. "I missed you."

"Me too. How was Brazil?"

"Even duller than it sounds. And none of the Brazilian guys I saw were even hot."

I bite my lip and nod. Mack taps the girl unloading pajamas onto the bed next to me, Eden. "We're switching, kay?"

* * *

* "Ever bolder" in Latin.


	4. Chapter 4

-Rose-

He's watching me. I know he is. Blood rushes to my cheeks as they turn almost as bright as my hair. I glance at him once again before a throat clears behind me.

"Miss Weasley, your schedule." I take the timetable and unroll it, propping my elbows on the table.

"Whatcha got?" asks Maria, my best friend. She nearly tears the new parchment as she lines it up with hers. "Pretty good, we've got charms, astronomy, and potions together… that's good, I wouldn't want to be in potions alone… both my electives too- Muggle studies and magical creatures! But double potions today- with the Slytherins, probably, we're always paired with them for that."

She lets go of the timetable and I take it back into my hands. I stare at it. Somehow I had always managed taking nearly every elective, as well as magical theory class on Saturday mornings, with relative ease. I even was allowed into Alchemy, a N.E.W.T. class, and in line for a Time Turner once the new set from the Department of Mysteries are perfected. Sure, I get stressed sometimes, don't we all? But I'm not quite as confident about how I'll handle it this year. I'll be spending every free hour studying for the exams. Ten O.W.L.'s, just like my mother. That has been my goal- our goal- as long as I can remember. Education is incredibly important, and who wouldn't try to be the best they could be? Besides, I love it. I love almost all of my classes and am so excited when I learn a new spell or decipher a message in rune.

Still, I don't know if I can pull it off this year. Thirteen classes, with eleven possible O.W.L.'s? I sigh and grab a piece of toast.

After breakfast, I take another look at my timetable. The first class of my fifth year will be Transfiguration.

As I enter the classroom, I see some classmates are already there, sitting on the desks, laughing and talking about their summer. James, waves to me from the spot in the back corner that is occupied in every classroom by he and the other rebellious Gryffindors in class. I nod back at him, smiling, but continue to the front row. I busy myself by setting up my inkpot and selecting a new quill and this year's textbook from my bag. I trace the title with my finger: _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five_. I've flipped through it a few times since I got it in Diagon Alley, and I'm pretty excited about the stuff we'll be learning this year- no more pincushions. It's getting real now.

The noisy chatter of the students dwindles as Professor McGonagall enters. She's the one teacher with the power to expel any of us, regardless of house. The room is silent but for the clicking of her shoes and rustles from the shelves on either side full of animal cages. The headmistress reaches the front of the classroom and turns to face us. She clears her throat.

I'm back where I belong.

By the time I'm heading briskly down the stairs to the dungeon, I've been assigned a reading and response for both Transfiguration and alchemy, a research project on a carnivorous flower, two feet of runes to translate, two charms to practice, and a bowtruckle diagram to finish. And knowing how Professor Nott expected as much as his predecessor in teaching the subject did, I'm going to have a long evening ahead of me.

After a long speech essentially identical to one in every class I've had today, we get started making a potion from our practical exam last year because Professor Nott had "figured most of you (pointed looks at various Gryffindors) will be rusty and need to review".

I'm on the second of seven spins counterclockwise when I feel a sharp sting on the back of my neck. I ignore it and keep stirring. But it happens again. And again. I twirl around to hear chuckles from behind me. Scorpius smirks as he takes another unripe mistletoe berry from his pouch and points his wand at it, making it levitate. With a jerk of his wand it too shoots toward me, but I hold up my potions book and it ricochets off. "What the hell, Malfoy?"

He leans over his cauldron to pull one of my long red braids. "You're cute when you're angry."

I open my mouth to retort when a ghastly fume fills the air. "Miss Weasley, your potion."

Snickers chorus around the Slytherin tables. I turn to my abandoned cauldron and wince. Instead of the pale blue described in the instructions, the potion was spitting a thick black substance into the air as it boils. Yet more heat crawls up my neck to join the furious flush on my cheeks as I pick up my wand and whisper, "Scourgify."

Nott's cloak brushes my shoulder as he comes to stand before me. He raises his eyebrow. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for your failed attempt at a fourth-year potion. And another ten for disrupting other students on their own."

James slams his fist on the table and his navy blue potion releasing a steady cloud of steam spills over the side of his cauldron. "Malfoy was provoking her, sir!"

Nott spins on his heel. "Mr Potter, are you offering another ten?"

I sit, embarrassed and infuriated simultaneously, and read through some potion-making strategy articles in my book while the others collect what they managed to do in glass vials. As I had predicted, Professor Nott assigns a foot of parchment on important skills and knowledge for O.W.L. potions before dismissing us. I shuffle out of the classroom with everyone else. James catches up to me in the corridor. "I can't believe him. Why do all the potion masters have to be such-" Luckily I don't hear what he says next because a thundering of footsteps cut him off from behind us. Scorpius runs past, deliberately bumping into me so I stumble and knock both my and James' books to the floor. I glance up to see Scorpius and his friends whipping past other students. Before they disappear around the corner, he stops and looks back. For a millisecond his grey eyes lock with mine, and it might have just been my imagination, but in that millisecond they were filled with remorse.


	5. Chapter 5

-Lily II-

After my last class, I dash to the Slytherin's common room to grab what I'll need for homework. When I reach the bit of wall in a dungeon hallway I'm pretty sure is the entrance, I mumble, "_mono to kalytero_*" and the stone bricks slide in then to either side. I step into the common room and jump at the sound of the wall moving back into place. A few students are gathered around the fire, reading the Daily Prophet and comparing homework answers. They glance at me as I navigate around tall-backed leather armchairs then return to their activities. Their exchanged whispers cause me to scurry to my dormitory yet faster.

I almost get lost trying to find the library, but as soon as I enter I am embraced by the endless rows of shelves crowded with old books and the tranquility-slash-business of people working: footsteps muffled by the paper around them and occasional hushed conversations, only slightly echoed by the incredibly high ceiling. I tiptoe through a row toward the back where I can glimpse a few tables where I can sit down and work on my infinity of assignments. Lucy and Al beckon me over to where they are hunched over an ancient book practically falling apart.

"How's your first day going?" asks Lucy, conspicuously avoiding looking at the green serpent on my robes.

I nod my head. Now I realize I haven't been able to speak to my brother since the train ride last night. "And you? What do you think of your new classes?"

"Alright… 'cept for divination. What a load of rubbish." She shakes her head with an exasperated chuckle and bends down to get her bag. "Well, I'm outta here. I haven't quite adjusted to the vigorous school-year mindset yet. Maybe I'll head up to the common room, see what James and everyone are up to. Wanna come?" she says, but then remembers and bites her lip. I can't come. I will never set foot in the same common room as my entire family. Never cheer for the red and gold flecks tearing around the Quidditch pitch, never sit at the Gryffindor table and laugh as Freddie pulls off an exaggerated impression of Professor Nott.

Al hesitates before replying, "Nah, I'd better stay here and finish my homework. Already lost a few points for a certain prediction in divination." Lucy suffocates her snickers, and I have a general idea of what he said that blew off their teacher.

Once Lucy leaves, Al leans in toward me. I close my book.

"You okay?" he asks.

I look over at him. "Yeah." I pick up my quill before I realize I have no idea what I just read. Al is still looking at me cynically. "Well, it's just... weird, you know? My whole life I'd never doubted- we never doubted, the whole wizarding world never doubted- that Lily Luna Potter would be sorted into the same house as everybody in her stupid, famous, _Gryffindor_ family of celebrities. Why can't I be with you, Al? What did I do wrong?"

My brother listens with a sympathetic expression on his face that makes me want to both hug and punch him. He chooses his words carefully: "Lily… the Sorting Hat sorted you as it did for a reason. It is very wise, and I trust it. Look, just because you're not in Gryffindor doesn't mean we're all going to stop spending time with you, loving you."

"Don't lie to me, Albus. Lucy could barely look at me."

Al sighs. "Just give her time. I've never understood all this cross-house rivalry, anyway. Slytherins can be just as good as Gryffindors- better, even. And I can see why you were sorted into that house- you're ambitious, and clever, and disciplined- hey, you even taught yourself to read before—"

"I AM NOT A SLYTHERIN!" I roughly sweep my books and parchment into my bag and kick the chair away from the table. Al watches me with that look of his as I pushed past a glaring Madam Pince and leave the library.

* * *

* (modified) Greek for "only the best"

**Short chapter, I know. Sorry. It just seemed to end well here. Hope you liked it nevertheless!**


	6. Chapter 6

-Roxanne-

It's the morning of our second day of school. Defense against the Dark Arts, our first class of the year. Waiting outside the locked door of the classroom, students buzz excitedly: who's the new teacher?

The old defense professor, Slughorn, retired last spring (from what I've heard, it was about time, too). And after a scan of the staff table, Fred and I realized his replacement had not been at any of the meals. So I'm guessing either a very depressed ghost or a talking flobberworm.

The doorknob jiggles and the semicircle of third years around it take a step back. A collective breath is held as the door slowly opens inward, then everyone (even me) widens their eyes.

It's a wizard. A young one, of course, with tousled brown hair, a child-like face, and otherwise, from what my girls cousins whisper excitedly about after lights out at sleepovers, the perfect body. One girl actually falls back into the arms of her friend. Seriously.

"Um… hi. I'm your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. You may call me Professor Creevey."

He backs away from the door and we file in. Several girls subtly fight over the desks closest to the front, where Professor Creevey is checking his notes. Meanwhile, my favorite spot is right in the middle. Where no one can ignore you.

Professor Creevey attempts to clear his throat. The few murmurs die away, and he begins.

"I'll take role first. Er, Meredith Ashby?" He goes through the list. As students respond, I realize we share this class with the Slytherins. Dammit.

"So," says Creevey. Although at first he seemed shy, he speaks in a clear, steady voice. "Defence Against the Dark Arts. Some might argue this is the most important of all the classes at Hogwarts. And when it comes to survival in the wizarding world… I agree. I can't make you like this class. I can't make you study hard. But for your own sake, I'd suggest you'd pay attention." He scans our faces. Everyone is watching him intently. I am too. "In this class, I will try to include both theoretical and practical lessons. For homework, you'll usually conduct your own research, finish a project we started in class, or practice spells on your own. Third-year Defence Against the Dark Arts focuses mostly on dark forces other than those caused by wands, magical creatures for example, but we'll also learn some new defensive spells. Any questions? Yes, you in the middle. What's your name?"

"Roxanne Weasley. Okay, here's my question: where have you been the last few days?"

The girl next to me glares. Even though everyone was listening quietly before, the room seems to fall into a yet more pounding silence. Creevey watches me with an expression I can't figure out.

"... I was visiting my parents," he says. "They're Muggles, and they still haven't gotten over…" He turns his head sharply to face me. "But that is not your business to ask, Miss Weasley."

Oh. Much duller than I'm sure any rumor that went around. So far, not a very interesting class, by Roxanne standards. But I actually like it this way. It's a clean slate, all the more gullible and easy to create chaos.

"To start, I'd like you to take out _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, and read the introduction. This book will be a primary resource in our classroom, and I know some of you might be familiar with it for Care of Magical Creatures. We will occasionally use _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection_, too. When you are finished, close the book so I know I can continue."

I take out my book. My brain searches for a way to be noticed. I could use the book- throw it or drop it or rip it, or the other students' concentration and make a noise. But for some reason, none of these feels right. I look up. Creevey's looking at me like a hawk. I exhale, defeated, and start reading. My eyes glaze over. When I reach the last paragraph, I have no idea what Mr Newt Scamander is trying to tell me, but still I slam the book shut. _Clap!_ I kick my feet against the legs of the chair as we wait for the final few slowpokes to finish.

"Read it? Great. So, Defence. As wizards and witches, we have the power to do so many things. You might take for granted that your mother can cook dinner with two flicks of her wand so she can play Gobstones with you, or that your father apparates home from work in a blink of an eye. But with this power, we are vulnerable to much, much more dangerous things than Muggles. We need to know how to protect ourselves, thus, Defence Against the Dark Arts. So, let's actually start off with a spell. You should remember the knockback jinx… and as you apparently weren't taught this last year, today let's review and learn how to make it even stronger. Let's all gather in the back of the classroom."

We arrange ourselves in a messy line. I'm one of the first. Creevey sets a cardboard box in front.

"So the trick here," says Creevey, "is to make the descent of the V shape your wand makes very slowly. Soon you will feel energy getting stored in the wand, like stretching a rubber band further and further back. And then, at the right moment, to jerk your wand up while saying the incantation to send the spell. This will cause a more powerful knockback jinx. Alright, first up?"

Callie Brown, an obnoxious, giggly girl who is also unfortunately one of my dorm mates, steps forward. She holds her wand out and lets it float down. "Flipendo!" She swipes it up. A lavender light rockets from her wand and hits the box right in the middle. But the box is only nudged back a few inches.

"That's alright, nice first try," encourages Creevey, and she smiles up at him.

The Slytherin know-it-alls, Alyssa and Clare, are next, and both manage to flip the box onto its side.

"Great, ladies! Next time you can let the spell grow even more before releasing it."

It's my turn. Clare simpers at me as she puts the box right side up. I pull my wand out. Just you wait, Clare. I'm going to make this the strongest knockback you've ever seen.

"Flipendo!" My wand moves like it's stuck in muggle traffic. I can feel the power building up from where I hold it, until it's hard to move my wand down any more. Just a little further…

_BANG!_ My lungs freeze and I'm knocked back off my feet. Somehow I manage to keep my head from snapping onto the floor.

"Careful, Miss Weasley. If you wait for too long, the jinx can actually backfire." I prop myself up on my elbows.

A snigger explodes from the line behind me. Dedrick Parkinson-Flint, the boy who had raised his hand earlier, is rolling his eyes. "Seriously, she can't be a pureblood."

I twist around. "Locomotor Wibbly!" Dedrick falls back onto the boy behind him, who quickly steps away leaving Dedrick to collapse on the floor right next to me. I jump back up, my wand still out.

"Enough!" yells Creevey. He silently casts the counter-jinx and Dedrick staggers back to his feet, glowering. "I won't have a defensive spell used in such a manner in my classroom! Honestly…" he shakes his head. "Mr Parkinson-Flint, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he snarls. He glares at me. He doesn't say a word more, but the message is perfectly clear: Bring it on.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here we go! I think you know what's coming. Well, almost coming anyway. Hope you like it!**

-Rose-

Halloween at Hogwarts used to creep me out. Magic jack-o-lanterns with faces charmed to move, leering at you as you walk by. Bats stupidly let loose in the dining hall who swoop away with your breakfast. A suit of armor yelling "BOO!" as you walk around a corner. Random ghosts deciding to stalk you- although most of them are very bad at haunting.

But by now it's just another night being convinced by your friends to leave the textbook on your favorite armchair by the fire and join the party. "Come on! Pumpkin pasties, edible cobwebs, there's even hot butterbeer this year," urges Maria. "Seriously, you need to chill. Do you really think the teachers are thick enough to have a pop quiz on the first of November?"

"You never know… hey!" I say as my cousin Molly grabs a bunch parchment away gleefully. Maria flips my textbook closed, catching my fingers. She holds it tauntingly over the fireplace. "...Just let me put these away."

"Yes!" They dance away toward James and his friends. Maria hadn't needed to confide in me her lifelong crush- practically everyone in the house knows. I roll my eyes as she twirls her hair, something I've never seen her do, and gather my books, parchment and quill. I climb up to the dormitory and heave it all onto my bed. The letter I received this morning catches my eye from the pillow.

_Hey Rose,_

_Happy Hallowe'en! Hope your year's going well. And that you're not going to stay holed up in the common room studying the entire night as usual. We're going over to Harry and Ginny's tonight, even though now the kids aren't here to trick-or-treat together. You know this is sometimes a hard night for Harry, although he's pretty good about it. Imagine- if the events of tonight, years ago, hadn't happened. For one thing, your mum and I might not have gotten together… Don't tell her I said that._

_Anyway, give your love to everyone for me, as well as gorge yourself with candy._

_Lots of love,_

_Dad_

I put it back and head down to the feast. I slip in between Maria and Molly, who are halfway through their meal already. "Finally! I thought you'd given us the slip. Look, apple-cinnamon bread!"

I half-heartedly fill my plate with foods from the crazily balanced stacks on platters. Meanwhile, students are gulping final sips of pumpkin juice and gathering in nervous groups to fetch toads from the row of cages along a side wall. McGonagall, from her seat in the front of the room, rises. "The Frog Choir, let by Professor Flitwick, has prepared a few songs to celebrate All Hallows Eve. Please give them a warm round of applause!"

As the earnest children begin to sing something Latin, Maria elbows me. "Heard you lost some points today. I'm so proud of you! It's happening more often this year, isn't it? So, what did you do?" she asks, a mischievous look on her face.

I sigh. "Nothing! Well, I accidentally transfigured a tomato into a tarantula instead of an apple. And then accidentally, it also turned out to be Quickened and enlarged. Accidentally!"

Maria is cracking up, leaning on my shoulder for support. She calms only for a second to say, "Girl, what's gotten into you?"

I shake my head. "I don't know," I answer honestly.

After a quick dinner, and more dessert than usual, I leave to get in a bit more studying before everyone else comes in to party some more in the common room. But I spontaneously decide to take a detour. I head towards the astronomy tower.

I grasp the railing with both hands and look up. There's no moon out tonight, and I'm surprised that our astronomy class tonight was canceled. But I don't need a telescope. I try to see if I can spot each constellation, and I'm stumped on the Sculptor when I start at the bang of a door behind me. I spin around.

"What are you doing up here?" It's Argus Filch. I'm stunned for a second time this evening, this time on how the ancient, grizzled caretaker made it up all the steps.

"Sorry, I thought- I thought the tower was open tonight."

"Really? I'm not so sure about that." He limps toward me. "Well, either way it's not. Didn't you hear the classes were canceled?"

"Yes, but I didn't think the tower had anything to-"

"Oh, it does all right. Ignorant brats," Filch grumbles to himself.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't know." I'm sure he can hear the desperation in my voice. I can't lose more points today.

He studies me for a moment. "Fine. I won't report this. But just this time. Now git!"

I scurry out and down the staircase. My footsteps echo in the empty hallway as I head back to the dormitory. I'm certain I've missed that little slot for studying alone, so there's really no rush to get back quickly.

A figure sitting at the desks in an empty classroom makes me halt. I step into the open door frame. He turns around. "Ah, Weasley. What are you doing out so late?" It's not a teacher, but I almost wish it was. Almost.

"I could ask the same of yourself," I reply. Good one, Rosie.

He slides out of the chair. His pale-blond hair catches the light from the hallway first. "None of your business," says Scorpius.

I eye him carefully, then start walking again.

"Wait." It's soft, almost a whisper. But I obey. "Look, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" My back is still turned to him.

I hear him take a breath. "Everything."

I look to him again. I am about to roll my eyes, but I don't.

He's waiting. For what? For me to forgive him?

"Okay."

Another pause. "...Good job on your potion today."

And it was. It was a new potion, one with a possibility of appearing in the O.W.L.s, and Nott didn't say anything mean about it. That's the biggest compliment a Gryffindor can recieve from him. "Thanks. You, too."

"You're just saying that."

"Maybe."

He laughs. "Alright, what did I get wrong?"

Now it's my turn to say it: "Everything."

"Could you help me some time? With potions, I mean. It was my dad's best subject- probably because he sucked up to the professor, but… I have never really got it. I don't like to follow instructions, you see." I smile. "But could you? I could snitch some ingredients and we could practise, in an unused classroom or something."

I bite my lip before answering. "Okay."


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, another short chapter. I'm sorry. And impulsively I added a little thing that at least to me seems sort of haunting, but I like it. It probably came from reading so much amazing freeverse fanfiction like the ones by an author I really admire, our dancing days. Look at her stuff. You'll thank me. Anyway, enough advertising- enjoy the chapter!**

-Lily-

I'm sure I'm the only one out here. Scotland in November isn't known to have beautiful weather. But I don't mind it. Personally, I find the gray, deserted dreariness beautiful. In a chilling way.

(Total seclusion guaranteed.)

I pass around the final turn of a serpentining forest path to find myself at the lake. Luckily. I'd gotten lost a few times before, but by now I've pretty much got the many trails through the grounds down. Once I even found myself in the Forbidden Forest, but after sighting a mysterious bunch of gigantic legs I quickly headed out.

Throwing my bag with a Transfiguration textbook and a few biscuits onto a boulder at the edge of the pebbled beach, I take out my wand. And then my textbook.

"Wingardium Leviosa." _Swish and Flick_. The book follows my arm up into the air. I watch with wide eyes as I make it dance a foot above the water, send it shooting across the beach, get it to spiral up into the mist. Magic.

(This is what I thought Hogwarts to be. Amazing, breathless magic. But not like this. Not alone.)

I practice my spells in solitude for a while. I master the softening charm, and eat my biscuits on the boulder, now as comfortable as the couch.

These days I've focused almost entirely on my studies. What else would I do, anyway? Talk to my beloved housemates? Months ago, I'd finally plucked up the courage to talk to the headmistress with the question that had been itching in my brain since I was sorted: Could I switch houses? I left her office before she saw me cry.

(Because Potters are strong. Even the Slytherin ones.)

The clouds grow even darker. Heavy drops pelt my face and I decide to head back. The trees offer at least mediocre shelter, but I start running when I reach the moor. Weary and soaking I reach the doors, fingers crossed that I don't run into Filch. Or that cat. Honestly, Dad says she was here when he was a student. How old do cats get to be?

As soon as I reach the dormitory I grab some clothes and a towel and make a beeline for the showers. Warm water trickles down my face, thawing my frozen lips.

(There was a time when I sang in the shower, but I'm grown up now.)

I change in a bathroom stall. I have about an hour until dinner- maybe I'll start another novel. I leave the bathroom patting my hair. Back by my trunk, I brush it out. On impulse, I plait it like my cousin Rose does hers, but then take it out and instead do a side-part.

(Maybe if I don't look like them, no one will ask why I'm not with them.)

I grab a book from my stack and enter the common room. There's an unoccupied seat in the corner, and I take it. My hair falls over my face as I open to the first page, but I don't bother to tuck it back behind my ear. _It was Frannie Payne's first day on the job, and she was already getting chased by puffskeins._

"Hey, Potter!" Someone was making his way toward her. "_How do you get them to stop?" she begged to a coworker, who was laughing uncontrollably. The two-foot tall balls of fur rolled furiously, their beady eyes trained on Frannie._

"How're you liking the dungeons?" It was a boy she couldn't remember the name of, a skinny second-year with shoulder-length blond hair. _She took off her purse full of puffskein treats and threw it on the ground._

"Is that Potter's kid?" Another one came over. They were surrounding her. "I bet he's _so_ proud of his darling daughter." _It didn't work. She shrieked. No one offered to help her._

"That's right. What did your dad say when he heard the news? A Slytherin daughter. Can't beat that."

(He didn't say anything. He never wrote to me.)

_She took off her purse full of… didn't work... took her purse of…_

"I'm not a Slytherin."

The blond one raises his eyebrows. "My dear, you must be confused. You're in the Slytherin common room, you see, wearing a Slytherin robe. The Sorting Hat yelled it out sure as anything. Why are you still in denial?"

I close my book. "The Hat was wrong. I'm not a Slytherin."

Laughter. "_The Hat was wrong?_ That's your theory. Come on, Potter. You're as green as the rest of us."

"Shut up." I wish I had my wand.

He looks at me, almost sympathetically. "Look, kid. I know you don't want to be with us. But the Sorting Hat never lies. You _are _a Slytherin. You can't escape it."

He tries to meet my eyes, but I'm looking down.

(Because I believe him.)

**Please please please comment and let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

-Roxanne-

Dedrick is going to pay. I spent half of Halloween night in the infirmary with a pumpkin head. At least that's what I'm told- I don't remember anything. At the library yesterday afternoon, I looked around for just the right spells, so I'm ready when I next see him. But I'm still rubbish at them.

Right after breakfast is a free period. I find Mack and another friend, Eli Jordan. "Come on," I say, dragging them out of the common room. We enter the unused classroom in the corridor over and shut the door.

"What?" demands Eli.

"I was thinking we should practice a few spells."

"What's gotten into you?" jokes Mack.

"A pumpkin," I say. "I found a few... creative jinxes the other day."

She smiles mischieviously. "What are we waiting for?"

"Hang on. Are we going to practice on each other?" Eli asks.

I raise my eyebrows and smile._  
_

"Fine, but it has to be even, Roxy. You're gonna have to be a target, too." I consent to this. It's totally worth it. "So, what spells are you thinking of?"

Mack grabs the book I'm holding, which I've slyly counter-hexed so none of the enchantments Madam Pince added would work when I dog eared a few pages. "Ooh, let's start with this one. Wanna make Flint barf slugs?"

We practice. Within ten minutes we're all sporting some kind of effect of a jinx, whether it's a freak case of acne, a four-foot-long arm, or a baby slug clinging to the chin. We're so focused we all jump in surprise when Eli's watch calls out in this stupid chipper voice, "Hello, Elijah! This is an alarm to remind you your class starts NOW."

"Tergeo," I say, and the last bits of slug slime disappear from my robes.

"That was productive," says Mack. She picks up her bag and a strand of hair slides out of her ponytail and hangs across her face when she stands back up.

Eli and I also grab our stuff, then part ways with Mack, who has Herbology while we have Transfiguration.

I'm ready, Dedrick.

_You ignored it. Roxy, darling, you never decline an impulse. Oh, you say this one's different? It was nothing? But you know it's not. Stop pretending you didn't feel that, that urge to reach up and tuck that chestnut hair of hers behind her ear. The urge to hold her and never let go._


	10. Chapter 10

-Rose-

"And make sure to master this charm, because it might just make an appearance in the O.W.L.'s." Professor Flitwick winks, his white hair still sticking up and smouldering slightly from a student's failed attempt at a shield charm. I flick my wand out and knock a book off the desk with a bright-blue forcefield. Flitwick smiles at me but doesn't bother saying anything. He knows I mastered this in the third year.

A crudely-made parchment airplane drifts over to me. I unfold it:

_Tonight? After dinner in the classroom where we met that night. _I turn to see Scorpius casting a nearly perfect shield charm. As he lowers his wand, our eyes lock and I nod.

That evening, we file into the Dining Hall. I'm looking down, focused on the night's agenda. Suddenly, I shiver uncontrollably and my heart drops. I shriek and leap out of the hazy, frigid air.

"Sorry," I say, and Nearly Headless Nick laughs.

"Not to worry, my dear."

Maria nudges me. "If you didn't even notice you were walking straight into a ghost, something must really be on your mind."

I shake my head. "No, it's nothing." She gives me a funny look, but I still don't tell her. I know exactly how she'd react if I told her I was tutoring a Slytherin. Scorpius Malfoy, especially.

I finish my dinner quickly and head up to the common room. I could probably go straight to the abandoned classroom I'd seen Scorpius in Halloween night, but for some reason I enter the dormitories.

I re-plait my hair. Would Scorpius remember to bring his potions book? I grab mine just in case. "Someone looks nice," comments the mirror by Molly's bed. I huff cynically, but allow myself a look at my reflection and smile.

Book in hand, I head out of the dormitory and crawl out of the Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady raises an eyebrow. I ignore her and head down the dark, empty corridor.

Scorpius is already in the room. Surrounding him are jars of various animal parts and herbs bunched together with twine, and a cauldron waiting. "Hi."

"Hi."

"So…"

"What do you want to start with?" I ask.

A slight blush clouds his pale skin. "I got the ingredients for a Confusing Concoction."

"That's a third year potion."

"I know."

Silence falls. I clear my throat. "Right, then. So." I flip through the potions book until I get to the Confusing Concoction. "Pufferfish eyes?"

"Check."

"Scurvy grass?"

"Check."

We go through the ingredients to find he has only forgot dried nettles, which is optional, anyway. Scorpius grinds the dragon horn while I peel the shrivelfigs. The work goes by a lot faster with two.

"Aquamenti." The cauldron fills up with water. I watch as Scorpius adds one two many drops of Salamander blood. Then I grab the plate he brought to keep the fire in. He reaches for it at the same time, and our hands brush. What a cliché- we're enemies, after all. I let him put it under the cauldron and conjure a fire with a flick of his wand.

He puts it out right before the mixture starts boiling. "Good," I say. "Now add the grass. Three stirs- no, clockwise!- and then the horn. Great. In ten minutes we can add the shrivelfigs and the pufferfish eyes. Now, we have to wait."

Scorpius leans back from the cauldron. I sigh, then realize how loud it sounds in the silent classroom. He taps his fingers on the floor and absentmindedly starts humming something I'm sure I should recognize.

"So… potions," I start.

"Honestly, Weasley. You have no idea how to have a conversation," says Scorpius.

"Do too." I cringe at the childish retort.

"Okay, then let's talk about something. Not potions. Tell me about… your family."

I roll my eyes. "You know all there is to know. Blood traitors, mudblood mother—"

Scorpius shifts. "Don't say that."

I sigh and drop the sarcasm. "Okay. Well, there's a lot of us. That's the first thing. But as for my immediate family… my father works in the Auror department, and my mother— well, she's doing something about house elves." I blush. "And then I have a brother, Hugo."

"It's his first year, right?"

"Yeah."

"How's he doing?" I strain to find ridicule in his voice, but can't detect it.

"Good. I don't know. I don't see him a lot."

"But you're in the same house."

"Truthfully, I spend most of my time holed up in the library."

"Figures," he says.

I nod, but it looks more like a shameful duck of the head. "What about you?"

"Well, it's pretty much just me, my dad, and my mom. You probably know that my Dad works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, like yours, and Mom just stays at home, I guess. We live at our grandparents' manor. They're sort of pathetic; one of them was paralyzed during the war and stays in bed most of the time."

"Oh."

"Yep… hang on," Scorpius says. He peers into the cauldron. "Isn't that the right shade? I can never tell."

I stand up and hover above him and the cauldron. My braid falls in front of his face but he doesn't say anything. I flick it back.

"Yeah, that's good. Actually, it's perfect." I stick the wooden spoon in, and it's just about the right thickness, too. I put out the fire underneath. "Well done, Malfoy."

"Thanks. It was mostly you, though." He smiles, and I smile back. "Next week, same time, same place?"

"Deal."

With his wand, he transfers some of the potion into a vial. He pulls out an identical, empty one and waggles it. "Want some?"

"What would I do with it?"

Scorpius laughs. "Oh, Rose, you have a lot to learn."


	11. Chapter 11

**Kalo Mina! (Greek greeting said on the first of the month) ****I'm going to try to post a lot this month, at least once or twice per week, because I'm doing NaNoWriMo and so I won't write _this _the entirety of next month and I want to make up for that in advance. Wish me luck!**

_**Once again, please pretty please review, fav, and follow! I love a) writing and b) my fandoms so much and it means a lot to me when someone appreciates how hard I work on my fics.**_

-Lily Luna-

"Lily!" Al waves his hand from the other side of the corridor. I heard him, but I keep my head down and pull my bag closer to my side. _Don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook. _He's galloping over to me, his tie flapping up and down. "Where've you been?"

"Around. We go to the same school," I point out dully.

"But I never see you," he whines, "It's like you disappeared."

He's right. The last week I've been spending yet more time hidden in the library, behind a fort of books on subjects I don't take but find somewhat interesting. Ignoring my many cousins.

"How are you?" asks Albus.

"Fine. You."

"I'm doing well…" he says. "Why don't you hang out with us sometime in the Great Hall?"

I take this as an accusation. "Sorry, just… really busy." Then I realize it was a suggestion. "Oh! Maybe."

"Or the basement. There's actually this neat little room with couches and a table we discovered in my first year. Well, I gotta run. Potions." He smiles at me before running off the way I'd come.

"Bye."

I continue to the Transfiguration classroom, and take a seat in the back. We're with the Hufflepuffs and Uncle Neville's (it's hard to keep track of the real versus fake uncles in our family) son, Frank, is a few desks away from me. He looks over suddenly and smiles, fingering his quill. I think I might be smiling too.

The sound of a throat clearing makes me turn in my chair to McGonagall in the front of the classroom. "Exciting class today," she says. "Your first live animals." The nerds and the Muggle borns in the first few rows sit up straighter. "You will be turning these…" she gestures and for the first time I notice the gigantic jar on her desk, swirling with big black spiders; "... into buttons and back again. I will not give any instruction as to the proper spell as I would like you do work it out yourselves. Now, I know this will be a challenge for most of you. Treat it as a little practical test, just to see how you're doing. And with that, good luck! Miss Brown, would you be so kind as to pass the spiders out to your classmates?"

Lydia Brown reluctantly gets out of her chair, slowly walks toward the jar, and picks it up. She squeals when a spider crawls up to meet her hand from the other side of the glass. Professor McGonagall hides her smirk with a pale, spindly hand, and I have a suspicion of why she chose Lydia. The brunette finally passes out the spiders, cringing as she reaches inside the jar to transport each one. Mine almost escapes, but I nudge it with my wand.

The next forty-five minutes are dragged out, only interrupted by the occasional sigh of exasperation or spell backfiring. It's almost the end when I perfect the hand motion. The spider's legs collapse under it. It flattens and buttonholes expand from the middle. The only fault is how it shivers on the table, as if trying to crawl again. I'm unable to fix that by the time McGonagall calls, "Time's up! Please bring your spiders, in whatever form they may be, to me so I can examine them and then return them to the jar." When I get to her and place the button on her desk, she nods. "Well done, Lily." I look up from trying to nudge the button back to the middle of the desk at the use of my first name. The old woman presses her lips together and I think it's a smile.

I go to get my bag, but as I pick it up, it flips due to the flimsy shoulder strap. I groan and stuff papers and books back into it. Students slip past me, until I'm the only one left but for McGonagall. I speed up even more, not even caring if I wrinkle the parchment. I accidentally kick my wand in the process. Bad mistake. The book it now points at shoots up and knocks into one of the cages in the back of the classroom.

I jump up. The cage crashes to the floor and the door flies open. The thick brown snake inside it lifts its head in excited confusion and promptly slithers out onto the floor.

"No!" I say.

The snake stops.

I take a step back, but keep shouting. "Go back!" It rises up and I gulp. But it obeys. It turns back around and slides into its cage. Timidly, I walk toward it. I brace myself and reach to latch the door closed, but nothing happens. Then I remember my manners. "Um, sorry. For knocking over your cage."

I've almost persuaded myself that it was just a coincidence, that the snake didn't understand me, then a fluid whisper fills the air: "_No problem". _I gawk. "_I would have liked to see what's out there, though"_, the snake says, because now I'm sure it's the snake that's speaking. It cocks its head toward the classroom door. I nod and back away, nearly tripping over my bag.

I spin around to McGonagall, standing calmly by her desk. "Wait— does that snake… speak English?" I sputter.

"No. Don't you understand, dear?" she says. "_You _are the one speaking a foreign tongue."

I stare at her, bewildered. "What?"

McGonagall shakes her head fondly. "I was wondering which of you would inherit it. You see, Lily, your father is a Parselmouth. He can speak to snakes. And now, you obviously can, too."

"So I was speaking snake just then?"

"Yes, to me you were making a random series of hissing sounds. Though it does take a while for Parselmouths to even recognize they're speaking a different language. But truly, Lily, what an uncommon, fascinating skill."

I grab at my scalp. Dad has never even told us… and am I the only one of the three who it was passed down to? I grab my bag by the non-broken handles and hold the remaining loose papers in my other hand, along with my wand. I turn to go, and to process this. "Thank you."

"But Lily—" starts McGonagall. I look back at her. "I wouldn't advise you go about telling everyone. You see, there's a sort of negative aura around your ability. It's… associated with Dark Wizards… and therefore Slytherin." She bites her lip.

"But I am a Slytherin," I counter. "Shouldn't I be proud I inherited my founder's powers?" I leave before she can say anything else. But despite what I said, for some reason I know I won't tell anyone about what happened. I could do with a secret to fill up my head.


	12. Chapter 12

-Roxanne-

Herbology first thing Monday morning is quite the wake-up call. I wind my scarf around me and pull my robes closer as I step out the double doors. A delicate lace of frost has sunken down into the long, wild grass overnight. It crunches as we tromp across it to the greenhouses. I yank the door open and the suffocating heat hits me in the face. I pull off my scarf.

"Hey," says Professor Longbottom, or Neville, as I first knew him. Before Creevey, he was almost everyone's favorite teacher. He treats us like friends, not infants, and always has something interesting to say about what we're learning. He was the one who killed the snake, you know.

"Hi." I throw my bookbag under the tables. "What're we doing today?"

He steps back from the front table where he is separating pinkish things from bits of stem. "Puffapods."

I lean over his table, but Neville— excuse me, Professor Longbottom— swats me away, nearly swiping my nose. "Wait for the others," he orders. I groan dramatically. Way too slowly the rest of the class files in. I take my place at a table with Mack, Eli, and Al. I can tell that the large pot in the center has a magical wall around it by the slight shimmer. Longbottom knows us well.

"Good morning," he says. "Today we'll be working with Puffapods, since they're ripe now." He cups his hand around a few and lifts them for us to see. They're plump, pink beans that seem to wait impatiently for something to happen. He carefully places them back on the desk. "They're used in many potions you'll be learning next year, I think. But a specific thing happens when they either have abrupt contact with something or when they're not boiled right." He smiles a little to himself as if he's experienced this himself many times. "Can someone tell me what?"

One of the Hufflepuffs raises his hand. "They turn into flowers."

"Yeah. So be careful. First, I'd like you to take the stems off all those in the pot on your desk, so they're ready for future potions, then we'll experiment a little after that dull work. You're not just my slaves, after all."

An hour later, we walk back to the castle, both Mack and I sporting bright pink blossoms in our hair. We tried to get Eli and Al to put them in the buttonholes of their robes and shirts, too.

"What've we got next?" asks Eli.

"Free period!" sings Mack.

"But then History of Magic," Al points out. She sulks.

It's an unanimous decision that it's "too frickin' freezing" to stay out on the grounds, so we grab a hot chocolate from the kitchen before heading up to the common room. But an obstacle appears.

"Weasley." Flint rubs his hands together, but not from the cold.

"And other Weasley, and Finnigan, and Jordan," says Marcus Greengrass, his ally. It seems he finds himself very witty. Clinging to him is Lulu Edgecombe, another Slytherin.

"What do you want?" snarls Eli.

Flint raises his eyebrows. "Who says we need something from you? I was supposing we could chat."

I was never one for chatting. My wand is already aimed at his chest. "Tarantallegra!" He begins to jig rapidly, looking daggers at me the entire time.

"Erm, Roxy…" Mack says under her breath. I'm laughing at the sight of Flint dragged back and forth on the floor by his fiddling feet. His face is turning red.

"Goddammit, Roxane!" Al knocks the wand from my hands. "Enough!"

Flint staggers to the wall of the corridor, putting his hand against the wall for support only for it to slide down as he falls to the floor. On the wall, old men yell in protest from their tilted frames.

"Honestly. He didn't even do anything to you yet."

"He was going to," I counter calmly. "I just responded in advance." Flint sputters as he picks himself up. He apologizes to the paintings and fixes them to make them shut up, then turns to me.

"You…" Flint jerks his hand to his robes pocket. He growls when he spots his wand yards away on the floor instead. It must have fallen out during the jinx.

No sooner does he step towards it than a sharp yet cracking voice appears from behind me: "Weasley? Flint? Explain." I spin around to see Professor McGonagall looking sternly down on the scene. My friends are already pressed against the wall, but as they don't have their wands out it's clear they weren't involved.

"You've got to believe me— I had done nothing! She just attacked out of thin air!" Flint squawks. I bite my lip. We all know McGonagall is rarely partial to her own house.

Her face doesn't change. "I would like to see you in my office, Roxane. The rest of you can head to your next class early." I groan and hang my head. As we leave, I feel a slight squeeze on my wrist. I look up to Mack giving me a half-smile. I swivel my head forward again. McGonagall and I ascend several flights of stairs, only pausing for one to swing over to where we stand. We finally get to two stone gargoyles frozen at attention. "Albus," mutters McGonagall, and they relax to get out of the way of the door.

"You again?" one of them chuckles. I nod. We wait for the staircase to corkscrew us up to the headmistress's office. Awkward. We enter the office and she sits in the throne-like chair behind the grand chestnut desk. I take a seat in front of it.

"So…" I draw out.

"Roxane, this has to stop. I understand Gryffindors are — and are expected to be—" she gives me a look, "quite impulsive and bold, but when it comes to hexing fellow students intentionally, and not out of self defence, it has definitely gone too far. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I reply sullenly.

"If you feel you are being pestered by other students, by all means come to me or another teacher and _we'll _sort it out. Really, I have watched the rivalry between you and Mr Flint for the last two years, but I figured you'd eventually mature, so I did nothing. But nothing changed, and now I'm going to have to take action. So, in consequence, I'm going to take away fifteen points from Gryffindor." No response. Fifteen points is nothing to me. "I will also request you find Flint at lunch and apologize."

"What‽" I jump out of my chair. "Ma'am, you have no idea what he's done to me over the years, without apologizing. It was just a little jinx!"

"I know," she says. "Maybe this will nullify somewhat your harsh opinions of each other."

"Why don't you talk to him, too?"

"You're in my house, so you're even more my responsibility. And Roxane, I also think you are much more likely to find the strength to rise above it than Flint. After all, you're a Gryffindor, and others in your house have faced far worse challenges. You know, you're a lot like your father and his brother."

I roll my eyes, but keep listening.

"They also enjoyed the occasional prank, and weren't afraid to defend themselves and their friends. But the current difference between you and them is they never meant any harm. All the jokes were well meaning, to liven the students. I'm sure if you could accomplish the same, Fred and George would be very proud of you."

I look down and trace the veins in the wood of the desk.

"Thank you for having this talk with me," McGonagall finishes. "I think you understand where I'm coming from. Now, you'd better go so you're not late to class." I jump up and grab my bag from the base of the desk. "And Roxane?"

"Yeah."

"Have you spent time with your cousin Lily much this year?"

"Nah. We were never really close, and then now... plus, I barely see her, she's so quiet."

McGonagall nods as I speak, but her eyes hint the dullness of sorrow. "I think she misses the company. That's all."

I leave. I meander too much and miss part of History of Magic.


	13. Chapter 13

**Short chapter, I know. But it's not time for anything big. Not yet. However, I'm disappointed by the fact that even in writing my favorite POV I only manage 700 words. Oh well, that's simply proof that I'm not in control of this story. They are. (I think any fellow writers out there know which "they" I'm talking about)**

-Rose-

"Wanna go to Hagrid's tonight?" Maria cuts up her asparagus into tiny rods.

"Can't," I reply. She looks at me weirdly. "I… have to tutor someone."

"Who?"

I hesitate. "Scorpius," I say, then realize Maria doesn't use his first name. "Malfoy."

She raises her eyebrows. "You have got to be kidding. _Malfoy?_ What does he want with you?"

"I told you." I sigh. "I'm tutoring him in potions. Business relationship."

"Alright…" she says, but casts a wary look at the Slytherin table. "Tomorrow, then? Hagrid?"

"Deal. Oh," I say as I check the hands on the clock tower through the Dining Hall window. "Speaking of which, I should get going." I stand up and my plate disappears. I go up to the dormitory to grab my textbook, then walk down the dim corridor to the classroom. This will be our fourth meeting, the last two determined the morning of throughout November. So far, he's only messed up real bad once, a week ago. I told him I actually liked the new green hue of my previously-white sweater, but he still apologized over and over. I've decided we'll try the Draught of Peace, since we've just learned it and Nott hinted it'd be in the practical for the O.W.L.s. When I slip into the classroom, Scorpius has once again lined all the ingredients up for the potion. The cunning and slyness of Slytherins is really quite incredible. I wonder if Professor Nott has noticed the supplies vanishing from his cupboard, and if he has, why he hasn't said anything.

"So, Draught of Peace…" I skim through the book to find it. Scorpius laughs. "What?"

"Always right down to business, you are. You didn't even ask me how I'm doing."

"Alright… how are you doing?" I ask, because he looks like he's about to explode if he doesn't let out a planned, crafty answer.

"Better now you're here."

I roll my eyes. Crazily cheesy, but also something I am completely not surprised for him to come up with.

"And you?"

"Same," I answer before I can stop myself. He flashes a row of Piquant Toothpaste advertisement-worthy teeth. I return my attention to finding the page in the book. "Here we are."

An hour later, he peers into the cauldron simmering with turquoise blue mixture. "So that's what it's supposed to look like." I transfer about a third of its contents into a flask, so it doesn't all go to waste, but clean the rest out with my wand. He stacks the jars that still have something in them to put back the next time we have potions, then turns to me. "Now we're all caught up!" he says excitedly.

I nod. "So… will we still be meeting as often? Like, will we only do it when you don't get one of the potions?"

"I hope not," he replies. "I mean, just because I can do _these_ potions doesn't necessarily mean I will be able to keep up in class."

"Plus, this has been fun," I say.

"Yeah." Another dazzling smile.

"So. Next week, same time?"

"You got it." He starts to manage the unwieldiness of the jars as he prepares to leave. "But wait."

He puts his jars back down on the desk, with difficulty.

I fiddle with my necklace, a heavy gold locket. Dad gave it to me years ago, but it used to have a green S on it that he charmed over. _You're my little Gryffindor gal, after all. But treat it as a sorta good-luck token, for courage, you know?_

"I really wish you had been sorted into Gryffindor. We could have been friends." I immediately regret saying this.

Scorpius's eyes drop down and he bites his lip. He sighs. "Well, this is what I got. What we got."

We stand there, silent for a moment. But it's not an awkward silence, exactly. It's something else. Then he picks up the jars and leaves.

The next day, I spot Scorpius on the other side of the courtyard. He's talking loudly about the stupidity of the Transfiguration homework with his friends. Then our eyes meet. I smile. He continues to talk like he never saw me. It takes the chill of the locket thumping on my chest with each step to walk towards him. But then I spot the tiniest shake of his head. I continue to my next class, while inside I fume.


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, I literally wrote the entire thing in one sitting, so apologies for any mistakes. I've just been wanting to get out as much as possible before... *shudder* November. Enjoy!**

-Lily-

Well, it's December. At home, all the Muggle stores are putting up their wreaths and lights and blow-up Father Christmases. Hagrid's busy finding just the right trees to start pouring Mecklan's Magical Fertilizer over, and Flitwick says next week he'll let us run around the castle trying our levitation charms to put up mistletoe.

The usual cloud of owls appears over the dining hall. They descend, shaking snow from their layers of feathers, and students eagerly untie their mail. I spot our family's owl, Pixie, land next to Al, Roxy and their sidekicks. She dips her beak in one of his slices of toast as Al removes the large weight of parchment from her leg. He sorts through it, passing a letter down the table to James and opening one himself. But there's a letter left over.

Roxanne. She snatches the letter, and a bottle of resentment spills inside me. How can she get a letter from my parents— _my parents— _while I haven't gotten any the entire year? But she only contemplates it for a moment, without opening, before tucking it in her robe pocket. Al leans toward her to point out something in his letter. Roxanne bites her lip.. guiltily?

Around me, people stand up, a few grabbing an extra pastry to go. And I do something I haven't done in a long time: I find my family.

"Lily!" Al exclaims. He's bewildered, but he still grins at me. "How are you?"

I smile at him, but make a beeline for Roxanne. "Have you been getting letters from my parents?"

She stares, nonplussed, then shakes her head.

"What's this, then?" I ask, reaching for the pocket. Roxanne draws back instinctively, but I still catch the parchment between my fingers. She looks down at the floor as I inspect it.

It has my name on the front.

"Why?" It's the first thing that escapes my mouth.

"Is that… What….?" my brother mutters. "Roxanne, you said you've been delivering them!"

She doesn't meet either of our eyes. "I was just having a little fun."

"Are you kidding me?" I screech. This whole year I've been convinced my parents were so upset at my sorting that they didn't want to talk to me. "Not a single damned letter? You have a hell of a messed-up sense of humor."

"Sorry," she says, but she's not addressing me. She's talking to Al.

I look over to him. He glares at Roxanne through Weasley cheeks flushed with rage. Not many people have had the pleasure of angering my brother, so him being mad at Roxanne reminds me how much he cares.

"I can't believe you. First Flint, now this? You're spinning out of control, Roxanne." He turns to me. "You'd better get to class. I'll make sure you get all the old letters. I love you."

The last exchange I hear as I run off:

"Why, Roxanne? She's our family."

"Maybe. But she's a Slytherin."

Fury boils in my cauldron that day. Silently, I grow angrier and angrier at my cousin. We used to be incredibly good friends. We all got pranked more than once by her, but we accepted it as good fun. It was just Roxanne. And then when she started Hogwarts, Uncle George would shake his head over owls from McGonagall. _Like father, like daughter_, my aunt would say. And everyone in school knows about the rivalry between her and Flint. But really, would her hatred of his house— my house— pass down to me?

I haven't done anything to deserve it. If you don't count being in Slytherin.

At dinner, Al finds me. He hands me a fat bundle of parchment joined with a rubber band. "Look, Lily. I'm really sorry about Roxanne. I don't know what's gotten into her… you know we all love you. We all miss you." I nod and take the letters. Later, I sit on my bed and go through them.

_Dear Lily,_

_Hi! We miss you already. How is everyone over at the school? Give Neville a hug for us._

_Lily, the letter came yesterday. We hope you know how proud we are of you, and that we love you no matter what. Personally, I think snakes are pretty awesome (don't tell Mum, she gets freaked out. She had a weird experience when she was little). I also hope you're enjoying all your classes. Even potions. I remember so well all those years coming to the station with us, begging to go along with your brothers. By now you've probably figured out Hogwarts is even more amazing than you thought it could be. Please write us back!_

_Love,_

_Dad_

_Dear Lily,_

_I can guess you're really busy, and that's why you haven't written yet. No worries! Well, Luna, Rolf and the kids came last night for dinner. I spent a half an hour after trying to wash the soot from the armchair. We should really move it when they come over; the little ones haven't mastered the Floo Network yet. Lorcan spent the whole time drawing Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and other things I couldn't quite make out. They're so cute. Also, you probably recall that the World Cup is later this year, so we'll be there next week. We're both super excited!_

_Loads of love,_

_Mum_

_Dear Lily,_

_Happy Hallowe'en! How are you? Al says he hasn't seen you much. You know, he was really looking forward to hanging out with you more now you're at school. Give him a hug for me. So… not much has been going on here. Since you all are gone, life is actually pretty dull. I'm relying on you to spice it up with a letter!_

_-Mum_

I read another from October, then two from November. I rolled them all up again and put them in the drawer of my bedside table. Then, I slid the one from today from my bookbag. It had been so hard to wait to read it until Al gave me the others, but I'd forced myself because I thought it would make it more special. I chew on my lip as I read.

_Lily:_

_Sorry to be harsh, but why aren't you responding? Is it something we did? If so, apologies a million times. We love you. The reason I'm sending this is to make sure you're taking the train home for Christmas. We weren't sure if you were having too much fun to leave, but it'd be great to see you again. We've almost forgotten your laugh. If you are, please write back soon. Either way, write back!_

_Love,_

_Dad_

I let out the breath I haven't realized I was holding. I pull out parchment and a quill.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I am so sorry for not writing you. I never received your letters due to_…

I hesitate.

… _due to some confusion. But now I have them, and I want to thank you for your nice words. And to answer your question, of course I want to come home! I miss you! School's been fine, but I was sort of bummed that I didn't get into Gryffindor._

I sign my name, then reread the letter. At the end, before my signature scrawl one might or might not be able to find the word "Lily" in, I add another sentence:

_But now I'm okay._

I had almost forgotten my laugh, too.


	15. Chapter 15

-Roxanne-

"Evolution." The Fat Lady nods as the portrait swings to reveal the common room. Mack and I step in. I rush to our favorite sofa and wait for her to join me. Mack seems to take so long it's like using the slow-mo on omnioculars. When she sits down, I rub my hands together excitedly. She taunts me, leisurely slipping off her shoes and crossing her legs over the coffee table. I growl impatiently. She smiles, rolling her eyes and reaching inside her pocket, to produce pumpkin pasties barely wrapped in a napkin. I snatch one and bite into it with relish. She nibbles hers thoughtfully, watching me. "What?"

"Nothing. Just…" Mack scrutinizes her toes resting on the edge of the table, wiggling the right ones and then the left. "I heard about the letters."

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that. I know you've already gotten hell from the head and from Al, but Roxy, really?"

"Not you, too, Mack!" I groan and snap my head up to the ceiling, neck hugging the back of the sofa, then look back at her.

"I just want to say, I know we think we're so cool, the Gryffindor pranksters. And I totally was— am— into that stuff too. So I feel sorta responsible for what you've been doing."

What I've been doing? I should be infuriated, but I listen. This is Mack.

"Like, I think as long as our intentions are good, playing around has been really fun. But with Lily and Flint, I'm getting worried."

I rub the seam of the sofa, picking out crumbs both from the pumpkin pasty and from snacks long past. "So you're a goody two shoes now?"

"No, that's the point, Rox! I like having you as a friend so much, and I don't want our adventures to end because you hurt someone. You know what I mean?"

I do.

"Good." She pulls me into a hug. It's amazing and so hard all at once. I can feel her tiny chin on my shoulder, the heat radiating from her chest. I breathe her in and resist running my hands through her smooth, utterly glowing hair. Too soon it ends, Mack turning her head as some of our friends suggest a game of Exploding Snap.

I win three times in a row before I excuse myself to go do homework. Eli looks at me like I'm under the Imperius curse. I shoot him a simpering smile and head up to the dormitory. There, I grab my bag, but instead of leaving, I take a seat of Mack's bed. I finger the pillow. Since we were seven and her family visited, we've been best friends. By the time McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat and I dashed to join Mack at the Gryffindor table, we were inseparable. But then last year, I started to realize what I felt for her was much more than friendship. The way I want to feel her next to me every minute, how a swish of her chestnut ponytail sends chills up my spine. And when her chest appeared faster than mine I'll admit I'd been the tiniest bit curious. But I have no way of knowing if she felt the same about me. Am I just imagining those times she scooted closer to me on the bench of the Dining Hall? Or is she just as afraid to say something as I am?

I stare at her unmade bed (Aunt Hermione was able to boil house-elf tasks down to cooking and picking up public parts of the castle). I should tell her. I should tell her right now, go down and ask to speak to her privately. But I can't.

I pick up my bag and leave the dormitory. My friends wave as I walk past them in the common room, not pausing their argument on how hard it is to become an illegal Animagus. I'm so focused on getting to the library I nearly run head-on into a pack of Ravenclaw upper-classmen.

"Woah, there!" They smile down at me. I scowl at their patronizing expressions.

One of them, tall with a mop of dark hair, nudges an identical yet smaller boy. "Now's your chance, dude," Rory Davies tells his brother, the youngest in the group. I'm pretty sure he's a fourth year.

Johnny Davies blushes and the other guys laugh. "Roxane? I was wondering if you wanted to go the— the Yule Ball. Or something. With me."

I step back. "Uhhh…"

"Told you, a lass like her's probably already going with someone," a broad-shouldered boy says.

"No! I just…" I stop. Johnny watches me with big eyes. "Sorry," I manage to say before pushing past him. I sprint toward the library, only turning one corner before bursting into tears. What is wrong with me?


	16. Chapter 16

-Rose-

We haven't met for a few weeks when I find a tiny scrap of torn parchment in my textbook: _Tonight, same time, same place_. I stick it in my robe pocket, wondering which potion Scorpius needs help with. He looked like got the one we were doing in class today— maybe the one from last week? That almost even stumped me.

As I enter the dark classrom I realize he's not there, but seconds later he bursts through the door, carrying a carton of flasks, jars, and bunches of herbs. He nods and smiles in greeting, and sets it down on a table to take the ingredients out, one by one. When the carton is empty, he pulls out his wand and banishes it. With another wave, the candles in the chandelier above us are lit and emit a dull glow. He tucks his wand back in his pocket and rocks once on his feet. "So, Miss Weasley. How are you?"

"Fine." I sort through the ingredients. Arbutus berries, snake fangs, and dittany. "What are we making?"

"Invigorating Draught. Didn't get it at all."

The one from last week. I nod.

"Here's the instructions…" he says, pulling out the book. We begin to work, and it feels like the old days, if weeks decide history from present. I hand Scorpius the ingredients, watching as he measures and chops and grinds them before adding them to the cauldron. He's actually doing very well, and I'm surprised he even wanted a lesson in this. Soon enough the smoking, simmering solution is an energizing shade of yellow-green.

I lean over the cauldron and stick a stirring rod in, testing the thickness. Perfect. Suddenly, Scorpius coughs. I turn around and look up with a start. His face is only inches from me. My face goes red, from discomfort or the head rising from the cauldron, I'm not sure.

He whispers, "I've gotten better, haven't I?" He takes another step forward and kisses me. It's soft and hesitant, questioning. I lean forward and answer, opening my mouth to let him in. He grabs my waist, pulling me closer, lips withdrawing only to reenter from a different angle. I run my tongue along his teeth, not registering us migrating backward.

Scorpius opens his eyes, then widens them in alarm and draws back. "Rose!" he yells. He pulls me forward, then we both turn to the potion I had almost backed into. It spits angrily, now an ugly mustard color. He groans mockingly. "But I was doing so well!" I'm not sure if he's referring to the kiss or the potion. He hastily extinguishes the fire under the cauldron, then takes me by the shoulders and moves us to a different spot.

What seems like ages later, we sit on the floor near the ruined potion. He tucks a wispy ribbon of Weasley ginger behind my ear and starts repeatedly running my thick braid through his hands.

"So. I'm dying to know: did you always like me, or was it only my extreme snogging skills that convinced you?"

"I'm not sure," I reply, closing my eyes. "You were always so foul to me, but… I don't know. I hoped you still might…"

He smiles. "Sorry, by the way. For our history," he says.

"Absolutely and positively forgiven."

We sit in silence. I take his hand and trace the arteries prominent under his pale skin.

"Scorpius," I say slowly. "The Yule Ball…?" I pause and hold my breath. The Yule Ball is an annual tradition at Hogwarts. It used to be to celebrate the Triwizard Tournament, but since Uncle Harry's time it turned simply into a formal dance. We don't have many of those, so it's usually a really big deal, girls spending hours choosing just the right dress in a boutique in Diagon Alley, and later taking just as long to prepare the afternoon of. I've never had a date before, but now…

Scorpius looks surprised. Normally the guy brings it up. He hesitates. "Look, Rose… I love you. I love your wisdom and kindness and I love your expression when you figure something out in class. I just worry that… that there might be some adversity if we're together in public."

I tilt my head, confused. "So you're embarrassed of me."

He lets go of my braid. "No! No. I'm just nervous. For us. Think about it: a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, a couple. It's practically unheard of. I'm worried it will cause drama."

I sigh but nod my head. "I understand."

"Hey." He takes my chin and lifts it to look me in the eyes. "We'll find a way."

I'm not so sure.

**Whew! Some said it was a long time coming, others thought it was too rushed, but I wrote this chapter (on the tail end of October) in a frenzy to give readers a nice send-off before I took a month-long break for NaNoWriMo. So in retrospect, I see many things that could have gone less rushed, or less awkward, or less cheesy. And I want to let you dear dear readers know that I plan (or at least hope) to do a full-out revision of this fic after I finish it, and this part will be ten million times cuter. But at least I wrote it! Please review and let me know what YOU think of it. But for now...**

**-Intermission-**

**(go make yourself a cup of tea)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello again, readers! You have no idea how much I missed y'all during NaNo (I won, btw!), but most of all, Rose and Scor and Roxy and Mack and Lily.**

**A ****super special disclaimer: NaNo completely exhausted me, and while I wanted so badly to get back to this fic (you. have. no. idea.) it was really difficult for some reason. Also, it's a completely different style from what I had been writing every day for an entire month. Until I sat myself down the other day and forced it out. So I'm sorry, I'm a little rusty and this might not be the best chapter. Still, I'm proud for finally writing it!**

**I also want to take this chance to say how much I appreciate you guys for sticking with me through this, and how writing this fic has really helped me and my confidence and passion in writing. Okay, done with cheesy stuff. Enjoy!**

-Lily-

"Time's up, ladies and gentlemen," sings Flitwick. With a wave up his wand, everyone's papers lift up from their desks and float toward his desk to settle into a neat pile. "You are dismissed. Happy holidays!" I dash out of the classroom as soon as he's finished, and allow myself a whoop of jubilation as I head back to the common room. Our last mid-term, and more importantly, the semester, is finally over! I'm _free_!

"Five golden horcruxes," I say to the stone wall in front of me, and the stones rearrange themselves upon hearing the password, like the bricks in Diagon Alley, to reveal the Slytherin Dungeon. Other than a few upperclassmen, the common room is empty. I rush upstairs to the dormitory, and pull my old leather trunk out from under the bed. The train leaves tomorrow at nine. I sort all of my normal, muggle clothes from my uniform and stack them neatly. Digging through my book bag, I tuck into the side of the trunk a few good quills and _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One_. The bag and the rest of its contents go in the shelf beneath my bedside table. I freeze. Two library books lean on one side, and with a cringe I realize they're from weeks ago. Madam Pince is going to kill me. I wonder for a moment why they haven't started beating me about the head or something yet, then remember that James had shown me a permanent counter jinx for Pince's tricks. Abandoning my packing I snatch them up and head back downstairs. There's nothing to do but return them with repeated apologies before the two week long break.

A foot appears on the floor in front of me as I pass a wingback chair. I stumble over it, my knees slamming into the stone floor with a thud inaudible compared to the shocking pain. A snicker lurches through the air. I was so focused on the daunting task before me that I'd become susceptible to something I can usually avoid. The tripping. It's different from the teasing or curses from too far away in that I only need to watch where I'm going to stay upright. But this time I wasn't. I try to stand up from where I lie sprawled on the ground and the group of students laugh and jeer.

"For Merlin's sake…" I hear above me. I take the outstretched hand that pulls me to my feet. "Picking on a first year… never gets old for you sons of wrackspurts, does it?" says the older girl.

"Er, wrackspurts aren't—" I start to point out.

"Exactly," she says impatiently.

"Oh, come on, Lulu," says the boy who tripped me, getting out of his chair. "It's all good fun. And she's a Potter."

"_She's one of us_," Lulu Edgecombe growls back. She's a taller third year, and I can't describe the color of her hair, shoulder-length and straight. Sort of a dark strawberry blonde, but a far cry from Weasley. She hands me back my books. "Ignore them," she tells me.

"I try."

She throws her head back and laughs like a hyena.

"Lulu, you've gotta be kidding me," whines a troll-ish boy.

"Choose your battles, Dedrick." She turns to me. "Find me if they're ever giving you a hard time, kay?"

I nod. "Thanks." As I head out of the common room, I can hear them arguing still.

I wake with a start the next morning and check my watch on the bedside table. Seven o'clock. Internally reprimanding myself for not setting an alarm, I crawl out of my bed and put on muggle clothes. My suitcase has disappeared from my bedside. I whisper goodbye to the Slytherin dungeons and climb up to the dining hall, grabbing a few slices of toast, then walk over to the great hall where students are waiting to be herded onto the horseless carriages. Lulu leans against a pillar, munching on an apple. She nods in greeting. "Heading home?"

"Yep. You?"

"Something like that." She takes a bite. "Hey, Potter, everything's alright with you and your folks, yeah?" she asks, but not unkindly. Just… concerned.

"I… I think so," I say. "But I only just figured that out. My cousin, she—"

Lulu rolls her eyes. "Roxane, huh? My utmost sympathy in being related to that crazy bitch." She freezes. "Sorry! I forget you're all eleven."

"No worries. I live with two older brothers who tumble into swear-fests over the last cookie," I respond. "But really, Roxy isn't all _that _bad. She has a good heart, I guess. Just… she's sometimes a little impulsive." Lulu chokes on her apple. Upon recovery, she glances over to the main doors where kids are now shuffling out.

"Looks like we're going," she says, and then gets distracted by the two boys from yesterday yanking her over. "Damn you," she tells them with a laugh, then turns to me. "Merry Christmas, Lily."

**Sorry for how short this was... still need to get back into the swing of things, don't I? But thanks for reading, and, as always, make sure to review! I'm thankful for both praise AND constructive critism :)**

**Love,**

**NS**


	18. Chapter 18

**Apologies for all of the Christmas scenes being posted long after boxing day... I'm trying my best.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. I thought things were getting a little too mellow so added some tension while still making it a Christmasy chapter with happy light things too :) Thank you so much for reading, and as always, please review!**

-Roxane-

Eli nudges me. "We're here." I lean over him to catch a glimpse of King's Cross as it speeds toward us, in that strange way like we're about to slice straight through it to reach platform nine and three quarters. The London snow, more beige than white, falls lightly, clinging to the roofs of buildings. I draw back from the window and stretch, and stuff my stash of magical candy canes flicking out red sparks and chocolate frogs into my trunk.

"You all staying home for Christmas?" I address the compartment. Mack and Lia, a muggle born girl in our dormitory who's pretty cool, nod, but Eli groans.

"Don't remind me. My mom's actually paying me to come with her and visit her loner cousin who moved to Spain years ago for some random reason."

"Speaking of which, you're coming with us to the Burrow from here, right?" Al asks me.

"Christmas Eve," I say. "We have to visit with Mum's family up North first."

"And we might pop in for New Year, by the way," says Mack.

The train pulls into the station and shudders to a halt. I can spot my parents, joking and chatting amiably with Uncle Harry, Aunt Ginny, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. Within seconds Hugo joins them, his trunk whipping around dangerously as he runs to hug his parents after his first time he's ever been away from them. I let out a sigh as I tug my own trunk into the aisle of the train. We file out into the crisp December night. Lia is quickly snatched by her parents who make a beeline for the wall to the muggle world, but then hesitate fearfully before she drags them through the magical barrier. There are two types of muggle parents: the kind that marvels at the wizarding world, and the kind that tries to have as little as possible to do with it. Lia had told us her parents were the latter, but in three years this is the first time I've actually seen them. And I never really realized how hard it must be to live with people so different from you.

Mack spots her parents in the back. Her mom's the other kind of muggle parent, and Mr Finnigan is explaining something patiently as her wide eyes wander, then settle on her daughter, who is trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. I march her away, over to my own parents, buying us a little more time. "Well... I guess I'll see you," she says. Tellhertellhertellher. Mr and Ms Finnigan politely push through the crowd of adults, students, owls and cats.

"Yeah," I finally reply. Ingenious, Roxy, truly. "Merry Christmas. And don't freeze to death before New Year's Eve. You're gonna be the lifeboat from insanity for me, with all the cousins..." She laughs and pulls me into a brisk hug before her parents appear behind her.

"Ready to go?" her dad asks, then sees my family. "Harry!" They do that guy thing where they shake hands then bear hug and for a brief moment I can imagine them back in their school days. "It's great to see you guys. I'd chat, but the portkey we signed for leaves for home in a few minutes. Oh, right..." with a flick of his wand he banishes Mack's trunk (she doesn't have a pet yet). "Anyway, see you soon! Happy Christmas."

"You too, Seamus," says Uncle Ron.

"Write me," Mack orders me.

"Duh. Bye!" Love ya! Why does that phrase seem so natural?

Mum wraps her arm around Freddie's shoulders. He's already taller than she is. "We should get going, too," she says. "Your gran hates it when the dinner goes cold." We say goodbye to the others and take off.

A few days later, wrapped in new chunky scarves and considerably fattened by sweets, we cough up soot as we stumble out of the Burrow's hearth. I'm immediately smothered by the warm width of Molly Weasley. From one overly loving grandma to the next- that's the definition of Christmas break.

"It's so nice to see you all! Fred, you must have shot up a foot since I last saw you... and Roxane, what a beautiful young lady you're turning into."

"Hey, Gran," I say awkwardly.

She greets and kisses both my parents. "Smooth traveling?"

"Seriously?" I mutter, brushing off black clouds from my pants. She doesn't hear me. Or maybe she does and ignores it... she did raise my dad, after all.

"Most of the kids are in the living room," she tells us, "but some of the boys are playing quidditch out in the snow. Or trying to." She gestures out the window where I snicker to see James, Al, and Hugo abandoning their broomsticks to pelt snowballs at Teddy Lupin, who I guess is visiting and obviously just scored with a raggedy old quaffle and a hula hoop enchanted to float a few feet over the ground. Today his hair is candy-cane striped under his toque, and his face looks almost feminine with a small chin and sharp cheekbones like a fairy. I make to run out the door, but Mum holds me back and looks pointedly at my trunk.

I drag it up the stairs into the girls' room, the one that used to be Aunt Ginny's. As I throw it onto the only stripped trundle bed, my cousin Dominique floats in. "'Ello, Roxane," she says with badly concealed distaste, flicking her pale blond hair away from the freckled Weasley face that somehow hijacked her veela genes.

I smile widely at her. "Hey, Dom. How're you doing?" Before she can answer I sprint out of the room, my snow boots thudding down the stairs and out the door. I grab a broom from the shed (a Nimbus, probably from like 1980) and hold my breath as I sneak around the corner of the house. They've gotten back to the game, the three kids against Teddy, and just as the holiday fairy is about to wrestle the quaffle from Hugo I yell, "Halt!" They turn in surprise and Hugo drops the ball. "Oi, Teddy!" I call out as I swing a leg over the broomstick and tear off into the air. "Nice hair."

Too soon we're called in for dinner. I flick my mitts off by the fire to warm them up and squish between Al and Teddy on the bench parallel with a table nearly as long as the ones at Hogwarts. Gran Weasley makes us say grace (even though I'm not even sure how many wizards actually believe in a god) and Lily, who I hadn't even noticed was on the other side of Al until now, puts down the book she was buried in to hold hands with the people next to her. After grace, she still clutches Al's lightly, and they discuss school lightheartedly, like nothing is wrong. I ignore her, nodding absentmindedly as James gushes about quidditch and Hogwarts bathroom stalls. Until...

"And then right before break, someone- well, someone tripped me and this girl helped me out. She was super nice about it, like... like it didn't even matter that I was one of you guys," Lily says carefully. "Her name's Lulu."

We're so tightly packed I can feel Al tensing beside me. But he doesn't look at me. "Lulu? Lulu Edgecomb?" I snarl before I can help myself. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Oh, come on, Roxy," says Al.

"Traitor," I say to him. "You've been cursed by her more times than you can count on both hands." I turn to Lily. "You're hanging around bad blood," I say, letting my voice seep with irony. I mean, it is ironic. Anyway, "I thought you might break the mold. But no. You're turning just like all the Slytherins before you."

I expect her to be affected by this, to go quiet and let Al, who used to always take my side no matter what, comfort her. But rather it adds a glint to her eye and she says in her squeaky little voice, "So what?" Al looks first at her then at me anxiously, clearly saying stop it, both of you. I jerk my head at him. Choose a side already, coward. Lily crosses her arms to his left. "So what? I'd rather have a good head on my shoulders than try desperately to be thought of as some sort of hero," she says. "Both houses are brave, the difference is that we use it to thrive, rather than wearing it like a robe to hide the weakness inside." And then she pokes me. She actually pokes me, right in the chest, as if pointing out the weakness she's suggesting exists inside of it.

"You've got it wrong, little miss Slytherin know-it-all," I argue. Verbal abuse is not my exact area of expertise. "Gryffindors are the heroes because we freakin' save everyone. You all are selfish when bravery should be used to help others, and that's what we're supposed to do."

"Oh?" she asks, her tone high and mocking. "What a help you've been so far, stealing little girls' letters and disrupting class and cursing everyone the first chance you get!"

"We all hate you, you know," I say. Albus elbows me so hard I almost double over, but I'm just speaking for him, for everyone else hiding their loathing under a mask of family.

"Fuck you!" she screams, and the whole table spins to face the sound of an eleven year old swearing. I almost applaud.

Time to go in for the kill. "Come on, snake," I spit out, coldly yet almost calmly. "Don't you get it? You're the Slytherin Weasley. Too blood-traitor for the greens, too green for the blood-traitors. This is the tale of the witch who didn't belong anywhere. And never will."

"Roxane!" Mum finally speaks up when she gets what's really going on. But it's too late. Lily slips off the bench and dashes outside without another word.


	19. Chapter 19

-Rose-

We all watch Lily until the back door slams, then glare at Roxy. Aunt Angelina pulls her away, Roxy wincing no doubt from the sharp nails clamped to her shoulder, and Aunt Ginny jumps up to find her daughter. Harry takes her hand to get her attention. "I've got this," he says, and pushes his chair away from the table. He walks slowly, and I know he's trying to give Lily time to herself to calm down before trying to talk to her. The rest of us gradually turn again to face the table and scrutinize our empty plates without a word.

"Well, then," says Gran. "Wine or tea, anyone?" It's quiet for another moment before Teddy raises his hand timidly for tea, and then the table creeps into chitchat, though it's one of the last things on all of our minds. Eventually we head into the living room where ancient records of a witch with a warbly voice like nails on a chalkboard whine out holiday songs. Angelina and Roxane appears in a few moments, red-faced but otherwise normal, though it takes a good amount of time for Uncle Harry to come in, stomp the snow from his boots, and tell us Lily'll be back in a minute. I'm in the middle of a round of Exploding Snap with Al, Molly and Lucy when a tapping sound makes me jump.

Behind the window beside me, a snowy white owl bats its wings as it waits for me to notice it. I stand up and attempt to pry open the window, but it's stuck. Teddy, who has been entertaining my cousins by metamorphing into the stupidest faces I have ever seen, runs over and helps me lift it up to allow the owl to fly through. "You're welcome," he says loudly, voice skewed by his weirdly sloping nose and narrow mouth, as I let the owl rest on my outstretched arm. It holds out the letter and parcel attached to its leg.

"Don't get a big head," I tell Teddy. "The latch was almost loose by the time you came, anyway." I untie the parchment and the owl swoops back off into the darkness, probably to wait with the other birds in the shed for a reply. I glance down at it and thrill rushes through my spine into my heart when I recognize the handwriting. "I'll be right back..." I murmur, and take the stairs two at a time up to the girls' room to open my mail in peace.

_Dear Rose,_

_Hey. How are you? I miss you! Not to sound self-centered- I snort- but so far mine's been super shitty. I'm stuck with my grandparents, but that's it. No other people, no kids, no you. The last one's the worst._

_Anyway, Merry Christmas! I got you something little- Dammit. I totally forgot to give something to him. Shaking my head, I read on- and don't stress, you're totally not expected to return the favor. Honestly, I've just been thinking about you so much I figured I'd better do something about it. I hope you like it, though it's a bit random._

_Rose, you might find it weird for me not to be saying this in person, but I'm so happy with how things are going with us. We are going to make this work! You know why? Because you mean more to me than anyone- than anything- has before. And because you're whip-smart and thoughtful and adorable. And because I love you. So, so much. There, I wrote it, it's officially in ink. Scorpius Malfoy loves Rose Weasley. It's a thing now. We're a thing. Scorpius-Rose. Boy-girl, in love. Who cares what else it may be: Slytherin-Gryffindor, Evil-Hero, Emerald-Ruby. Because we are real. Merlin's beard that sounds cheesy. Sorry. But it's true._

_See you in the New Year!_

_-Scor_

I untie the parcel. It's a pale green headband, with a flower of sorts made from gems on one side. Now I really feel bad for not getting him a gift.

"Rosey!" Hugo calls from downstairs. "There's fudge!" I tuck the letter and headband into the trunk at the end of my mattress, my goofy smile from what Scorpius had said along with them, and join the rest of my family. Only an hour or so later, the younger kids begin to stifle yawns, and all of us are sent to bed since we're sharing rooms. Lily sleeps in her parent's bedroom, and no one says a word to Roxane.

The next morning I'm woken by Lucy tripping over my legs to get to the door. "Hi, Rose. I didn't know you were awake," she stage-whispers, but her pudgy freckled eight-year-old face is too adorable for me to blow up at her. "Merry Christmas!" With a light groan I realize I won't be able to get any more sleep in, so I get out of bed and carefully open my trunk to pick out clothes. I'd rather wake up my cousins than go down in my pajamas. In a few minutes I descend the stairs to the living room. Lucy's already shaking some of the infinite number of gifts piled around the tree strung with fairy lights and surrounded by floating, glowing bulbs and sparkling fake snowflakes.

"Luce, don't do that," I tell her. "Wait for everyone else."

"How am I supposed to wait?" she says indignantly, but scoots away from the tree.

With a start I notice my brother and James already awake as well. "What time is it, anyway?" I ask, joining Hugo on the couch. He leans back to look at the one clock in the house that actually tells time.

"Almost six," he says.

I shake my head in a mixture of disbelief, annoyance and bemusement. "How are you guys up already?"

"You're joking, aren't you? It's frickin' Christmas."

We wait for the others to gradually trickle downstairs, distracting ourselves with wizard chess and making tea while resisting the temptation of the enormous Christmas tree. Somehow by eight everyone's awake, and Gran insists we at least eat something before opening the gifts. So, scones and cocoa in hand, we all settle down around the tree. The kids all check our stockings first, and the scones are abandoned for dozens of wrapped chocolates. We select gifts and without further ado begin to tear them open. Most of mine are books, and there's no complaint there, but I also get a few nice pieces of clothing and a great new set of quills. An hour later, all sporting new Weasley sweaters (Gran must start making them in June, there are so many of us now!), we finally sit down to a Christmas breakfast.

The rest of the day is filled with cousins playing in the snow in their pajamas, enjoying their new gifts, and drinking a lot of cocoa. I curl up with a brand-new paperback by the window until I'm dragged outside by James to play with the Quadpots all the boys got. Not a good idea. I don't exactly have the best hand-eye-coordination, and after a few times of being covered in icky brown stuff when the ball blows up in my face, the others make the right choice of only tossing it to me when utterly necessary. I fly lazy circles in the corner, letting my mind wander. What's Scorpius doing right now? Probably being interrogated on school by his grandparents. In a brand new suit, probably. I land and hop off my broom half consciously. We really are controlled by different lives. And no matter what he says, I can't shake the feeling that he dreads the day when the whole world sees them merge. I sigh. Slytherins and their precious reputations. Although I guess Gryffindors are sort of the same way.

I look up from my boots crunching through the snow, remembering something I hadn't time to do. I put away my broom and head upstairs to write a reply to Scorpius. Twirling a new quill in my hands, I think of what I'm going to say. Letters are weird because it's easy for the words to be taken the wrong way. I don't know exactly what to tell him, and I'm worried that I won't be able to put it into words. Finally I force myself to make a mark on the parchment.

_ Merry Christmas, Scor! I miss you incredibly. I'm having an alright holiday, though it's only when we all get together that I realize how crazy my family is._

_Thanks for the headband- it's beautiful. know what you said but I still am sorry since I wasn't expecting anything. And thank you for the letter, most of all. Scor, I love you too. And it's new for me too, so I'm scared. But it's... it feels like an adventure, I guess. A time for you to find your Gryffindor side. A little rebellious. And it's worth it. We're kind of like Romeo and Juliet. Sorry, that's a muggle thing. It's this lovely play about a boy and a girl from rival families whose love is stronger than anything else. Except hopefully we won't die like they did. So never mind._

_Sorry, I'm going on a tangent like this because I don't know what to say. Just... I love you too, so much, and I'm literally counting the days until break ends. You give me a new reason to want to be at school._

_Love,_

_Rose_

I walk the letter down to the shed. Luckily the snowy owl is still there, so I fasten the parchment to its leg. A rustle makes me turn around. Someone's sitting in the shadows, between the garden tools and an old muggle contraption. Roxy. I push away the rage for a moment. "You okay?"

"Yes," she spits. I think of saying something, but make the right decision and keep my mouth shut. Just then, a huge barn owl soars in. Roxy runs over to it, ignoring me to untie the letter and open it. A smile creeps across her face, and she clearly forgets I'm still here. "Six more days," she breathes.

Lucky.


	20. Chapter 20

**Happy Birthday, Tom Riddle! Oh, right, and Happy New Year's Eve. I'm not overly happy with this chapter, but it's somewhat important to the plot so let me know if you like it. I hope you all have a great 2015 in front of you, and that this is an awesome kick-off to a wonderful new year.**

**Love,**

**NS**

-Lily-

The thing is, she was right.

I pretend not to notice the family shying away from me like magnets with opposite polarities. I pretend not to care when the gossip in our bedroom ceases as soon as I walk in. Of course, they aren't as bad as the people in the Slytherin common room. Not as explicit, at least. But the distant politeness is driving me crazy. Only Dad and Al, really, try to treat me like I'm normal. _The trouble with Gryffindor,_ Dad told me that night, _is that it can either produce selfless heroes or reckless wannabes_. A sob became caught in a giggle. _And I think Roxy's wobbling on the fence between them right now._

But that didn't matter. I could imagine forgiving Roxy, maybe, but what she had said couldn't be taken back. It had buried deep into my mind, confirming the fears that floated around in there, closing a firm fist around them. I can't be a Potter and a Slytherin. Whatever fantasy of tromping off to a perfect holiday break where everything was normal, the same as it had ever been, is gone.

I'm curled up in Grandpa Weasley's study, on a comfortable leather chair behind a huge desk covered in muggle trinkets. I hear the doorbell, followed by cries of welcome and cheer, but I stay where I am. The vision of Christmas Eve dinner suddenly pops back out at me. At the memory of Roxy's snarling face I try desperately to will it away. But her voice echoes in my head:_ We all hate you, you know._ I wrap my arms tighter around me. _This is the tale of the witch who didn't belong anywhere. And never will._

It's then that I realize. I tried pushing my house away, in denial, but it didn't work. I'm a Slytherin, and there's nothing I can do to change that. I think back to Roxy's words. _We all hate you, you know_. And now I must choose: my house or my family.

Fine.

In the living room, I can hear Roxy squeal. "Mack!" Oh great. Another one of her stupid Gryffindor friends. I spot them through the study's open door as they rush through the corridor. Al hasn't exactly been hanging out with Roxy ever since that night, but now that their friend is here I know I've lost him. That doesn't matter anyway.

Grandpa barges in then, practically dragging Mack's mother. "Oh, hi Lily. You remember Ms Finnigan, I'm sure?"

"Hello," I say. As I disappear from the room, I can hear him telling her about his battery collection and asking whether she grew up with a "tall vision". For the rest of the afternoon, I steal a book from Rose's bedside and read in my parent's bedroom. That night, there are so many visitors that we eat in two different rooms, the children around the coffee table in the living room and the adults in the dining room. I eat quietly, watching the Lovegood boys playing with their food before Rose chides them for it and glancing at Roxy and Mack, who are doing the exact same thing as the boys. I resist snorting at them as they scratch swear words into their mashed potatoes and blow bubbles in their butterbeer. Voila, the difference between Slytherin and Gryffindor: we grow up. Yet a small part of me wonders whether that's actually a bad thing.

"I'm not-" Dominique pauses to yawn- "I'm not tired at all." Aunt Fleur purses her lips doubtfully but stands back up to go join the adults.

We continue to watch the game of gobstones most of the kids are circled around as Molly misses and the bright green marble spews awful-smelling goo at her. I look up at the adults, around whom another bottle of mead is being passed around. My cousin Victoire is leaning against Teddy's chest as he chats amiably with my dad. I forget about the game as she looks up at him. "We should tell them," she says quietly. He nods and pulls out his wand. When he taps it against his glass, it makes a tinkling sound. The room goes quiet.

"Erm..." Teddy says. "Since we're all together, I guess... we- Victoire and I- we thought it would be a good time to make an announcement." Al and Roxy bounce with excitement, and I cross my fingers. "We're getting married."

The room explodes. Everyone crowds around them full of congratulations as well as questions. The kids scream, but I don't know if it's out of happiness or just because they have the chance to do what they do best. "When?" asks Aunt Hermione eagerly.

"We were thinking June, right after Hogwarts lets out," says Victoire in her lilting voice.

"Oh, you've got to have it here," says Gran. "Just like your parents."

"We wouldn't want to trouble you," Teddy says immediately. "We were actually thinking that Hogsmeade would be beautiful."

"We know it's a little out of everyone's way, but the lake would be so gorgeous in the summer, and then we could have the reception on the second floor of the Three Broomstciks," says Victoire. The family continues to buzz excitedly about it until James points at the clock. It's almost time. We count down, and on zero we all shriek "Happy New Year!" We all cheer as Teddy plants a big one on Victoire, and then all of our parents start to kiss each other. It's then that the kids decide to head up to bed. We say goodbye to the people who aren't staying, and promptly walk up the stairs like Inferi.

I lie in bed for a long time. Despite how tired I am, I can't seem to fall asleep... funny how that happens. "Happy New Year, Lily," I whisper into the darkness. I've got a hell of a resolution to work on.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N to my lovely readers:**

**I am so, so sorry. This is one of those times that words aren't as magical as we make them out to be because I can't express how sorry I am for not posting for such a stupidly long time! Let's just say I've had a lot of plot twists in my own life, and I haven't been having the best few months. But I'm back up again, and I'm so grateful for all the supportive fanfiction-inhalers out there. So, after 5 long months, I'm proud to say... enjoy! (And review/follow/fav!)**

**Love,**

**NS**

**p.s. ****To clear up any confusion in advance: a large part of this chapter, which is in italics, is a flashback to New Year's Eve.**

-Roxanne-

"Oi, Eli." I swing my bookbag to the ground and slump on the sofa next to him. "How's your first day back been?" He doesn't look up from his book.

"Fine. You?"

"A tad worse, I'd reckon."

"Yeah," he says quietly. I snap my head to look at him. He still won't meet my eyes. "I heard what went down between you and your cousin."

I groan. "Al told you, didn't he?" Eli nods quickly. "Whatever he said, he's wrong."

"Sure," he says, rolling his eyes. Usually I appreciate the way Eli thinks out everything he says, the timidness so rare in a Gryffindor, but now the silence is unbearable.

"You don't understand. She's— she's been seduced by Lulu!" I burst out. He raises an eyebrow. "Not like that. But it's almost worse. Either way, she completely provoked me."

Eli doesn't say anything just as I expected. He slides a finger back between the pages of the book.

"There's no one else left on my side, Eli."

"Maybe you should start wondering if there's a reason," he says, and suddenly stands up, walking out of the common room with the last word.

"_Mack!" There she was, flushed cheeks and wide smile and all. She kicked off her boots and blew on her hands to warm them. This was the longest time I hadn't seen her for since the summer. Yet still I can't hug her. Maybe it was because I was worried it won't be enough, worried one touch would lead to another and she'd realize and step back and nononodon'tthinkaboutit._

_Around her is the only time I don't trust myself._

_"What's up?" she said in greeting.  
The parents drifted into the kitchen for a firewhisky, except for Mrs Finnigan, whom Grandpa was eagerly beckoning toward his study full of Muggle junk, just as Al barreled down the staircase and swung around the end of the banister. "Hey, Mack," he said, adopting a bulletproof grin. His eyes twitched in my direction before they returned to our friend. I clenched my teeth and I don't know whether I meant for him to see or not. "How was your Christmas?"  
For one afternoon we pretended everything is fine. We played Exploding Snap. We snacked on biscuits. We laughed at Teddy's rather vulgar joke that gained disapproving glares from the parents, and laughed even harder when butterbeer came out of Hugo's nose as a result. Despite the way my stomach jumped and I couldn't catch enough oxygen in a normal breath, somehow I found myself unable to leave Mack's side. I glanced at my cousins, one of the first times I truly directed my attention to them that evening. James lifted his eyebrows an infinitesimal amount. I knew what he was communicating. _Don't think this means we're back to normal. _But I didn't need him to tell me; this game requires full participation: _It's all for Mack. This illusion is all for Mack.  
_I didn't deserve this, and they knew it. I wondered who would be the first to crack, the one who couldn't ignore for another minute the monster their cousin had become.  
At one point during dinner, the world outside grew dark and snowflakes, pushed into whirls by the wind, tapped at the window. The evening festivities included an enormous Gobstones tournament and constant refills of butterbeer. After winning his fourth game in a row, Al jumped up. "You know what? I'm gonna make some tea. Does anyone else want some while I'm at it?"  
Mack was considering. "Okay. But I can get my own." They wandered off and James and I were left in the biting silence. We sat on opposite sides of the couch, with plenty of things we wanted to say but none of them necessary._

_The night crawled along. The younger children yawned as they counted the swings of the clock's pendulum, and James, Al, Mack and I were curled up on the couch, out of games to play and reduced to philosophical exhausted rambles. Teddy and Victoire's announcement along with the adrenaline of the hour hand nearing midnight gave us a brief spell of energy, and just like every other year, we bounced in our seats as everyone in the room counted down in unison…. "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"_

_We could hear the chaos of clanging pots in the empty kitchen. "You're welcome," Teddy said, and smirked, twirling his wand between his fingers. The adults tolerated a few minutes of celebration before starting to shepherd the younger ones toward the door, far past their bedtime. The party was over._

_As the guests inched toward the door, the rest of us begin to reluctantly trudge up the stairs. "Well, see ya," I said, nodding at Mack. She smiled, but it wavered. I turned around and head toward the stairwell, but as soon as I was out of the main room a hand grabbed my forearm._

"_Roxy," she said._

_I froze._

"_Could we… talk?" I nodded, and slipped into a small room by the stairs that isn't used for much other than storage. Stacks of cardboard boxes always line the walls, a few glowing, a few emitting soft rustling sounds, and there was only a tiny square of floor left for us to stand, face to face. I had no idea where this was going. She bit her lip, as if unsure of what she was about to say, until she told me, "Al told me what happened. Between you and Lily, I mean. When we were getting tea."_

_My jaw clenched of its own accord. "And I suppose you dragged me in here for yet another lecture." She didn't say anything. "Well? What do you want from me?" I prompted._

"_So it's true," she said. "I thought this was done; I was sure he was exaggerating-"_

"_What do you want from me, Mack?" I repeated._

_She stared at me. I realized this was the first time she had ever seen me like this: the monster I can feel speaking through my lips but who somehow seduces me and steals my will to control it. Weak. _She can't see me like this; why does she have to see me like this?

"_Mackenzie!" her mother called from the front hall, voice tinged with annoyance._

_She sighed. "I don't really know," she finally answered to me, and left, leaving me in a fortress of abandoned artifacts._


	22. Chapter 22

-Rose-

It'd been two weeks since I last saw Scorpius. In other years, it'd be like the brief period of peace between swatting a mosquito away and having it zip back and return to humming mercilessly around you. But things change; people change. Each time my mind wasn't caught up in something else, it went to Scorpius: his hair, his eyes, his smirk, that soaring feeling behind the top of my ribcage that only he can bring. I imagine the letter he sent me in his voice, whispering, each word a gem entrusted to me. It's in this time that I realize how little I know him at all. For ages, I'd made sure to have nothing to do with him, ignoring his jabs and jeers until it was no longer possible. Now, he tells me he loves me. Yet my encounters with him are almost as rare as before.

I saw him for the first time since December on the train back to Hogwarts. I'd settled down in a compartment with the rest of the older cousins, eyes peeled for Maria, who, as always, would nearly miss the train. And then Scorpius shuffled through the aisle, trunk in hand, wearing a moss-green scarf and a distracted look. As a younger student tumbled past him, slamming him against the wall, he spotted me and smiled. My heart raced. But of course he couldn't slide open the compartment door to join me and let me lean on his shoulder as I told him about Lily and all the other things that had happened since I'd last seen him. Because he's a Slytherin.

However, after Herbology, when I'm leaving the greenhouse, I jump when I hear his voice. "Hey," he says, stepping away from where he's leaning on the glass by the door.

"Hi," I return. It's been so long since we last had a conversation, and now I don't know what to expect. In class he ignores me- better than the teasing and maiming of the past, but still- and I now know I can't approach him in the hallways, either. "How was your break?"

His smirk stiffens almost imperceptibly. "It was fine. How about you?" He takes a step closer and we begin to follow the path of soggy brown grass made by a classmate's melting charm through the snow.

"Yeah, fine, too. Thanks again for the headband," I say.

"Of course." Tomorrow I will wear it. He pauses to see if I have anything to say, then continues. "So, I was wondering if you had any plans for the Hogsmeade visit next weekend."

My heart skips a beat as I answer, "No! None whatsoever." He nods and keeps on walking. I cock my head. "Um… are you asking me out?"

"That's what normal couples do, right?"

"I guess." _Except we're not a normal couple. You were quick to establish that, Scor. _"So what did you have in mind?" I ask, trying to scope out the reason for this sudden change of motive.

"Well, it's a random winter weekend, so there might be some third years still relishing their newfound freedom, but other than that I figured there wouldn't be too many… people. Still, I know a little place I used to go to all the time, when-" he hesitates- "when I wanted someplace a tad more private. It's on the edge of town, and it's actually pretty nice; I'm surprised not many people have discovered it."

"Sounds fun," I say, excited, but at the same time the realization that I know practically nothing about my boyfriend cements itself inside even more. We reach the doors of the castle and just like that he's gone. I sigh and walk across the Great Hall, since I have Muggle Studies next. I glance at the giant glistening hourglasses in their crevices in the wall. It's no shock that Slytherin's in the lead, its hourglass almost completely filled with emeralds, followed by Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, who have nearly the same amount. As I take the staircase on the left, a string of rubies flies back up into the top half of the Gryffindor hourglass. Probably Roxy.

I rush into the Muggle Studies classroom just as Professor Marley begins to take roll. I slide in next to Maria. She raises her eyebrows at me, though I offer no explanation. I try to focus on Marley's lecture about Shakespeare- we're in a unit about Muggle British literature- despite the many thoughts throbbing like a headache. She hands out ancient copies of Romeo and Juliet as well as summaries, telling us there's not enough time to read them but that a "high-lighting" charm has been placed on the memorable passages. I read it over the summer, anyway.

Thumbing through the book, I'm reminded of the letter I sent to Scorpius, comparing us to Romeo and Juliet. All of the characters were so hell-bent on fate. They simply accepted a plan was already laid out for them. A story, a map spread out among the stars by some celestial being who would move them through their life like chess pieces. Now, I realize my comparison had been too hasty. Now, I know I won't sit around waiting for whatever fate has been planned for me. Juliet did that, and look where she ended up!

It's time to take things into my own hands.


End file.
